


Twelve more laps to the rest of us: Season One

by oviparous



Series: Twelve More Laps [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Canon Divergent, Fluff, Friendship, HaruMakoHaru, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Male-Female Friendship, Queer Themes, Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oviparous/pseuds/oviparous
Summary: Haru and Makoto find different types of love in all the right places, including each other.Posting updates every Sunday and Friday (Japan Time).
Relationships: Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Series: Twelve More Laps [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120376
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. Heave Ho, and Marigolds

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a completely self-indulgent, feel-good exposition on love written by a 30-something-year-old, married, sex-favourable queer on the asexual spectrum whose current favourite queer-platonic couple is Haru and Makoto. This writer is still a shipper at heart so they really wanted to see Haru and Makoto fall into romance as individuals who are also on the asexual spectrum.
> 
> I modelled this after the series, in a way, so there are tons of character interactions with a deep focus on different friendships, though also on how Haru and Makoto (cast as individuals on the asexual spectrum, which I'm on) get together. Set shortly after Season 3/the Road to the World movie. I only tagged the main relationship, but please expect references to SouRin and HiyoIku. (I love AsaKisu but I cast them as bros in this, please forgive! XD)
> 
> I also wanted to give Makoto a really enjoyable university life, so I let his friend Saotome (the one he hangs out with at uni) play a big role in this fic, and gave him a female best friend, an OC named Kai.
> 
> This season will have 13 chapters and I'll post in different combinations of chapters (as the flow of the story dictates); the next season is still in progress! I broke it up because it got REALLY long.
> 
> Beware: SouRin and other ‘mainstream’ couples, gratuitous amounts of aquatic sports (swimming and water polo), love (both platonic and romantic), and the aforementioned female OC (and her family!) who plays a pivotal role by offering friendship, adding perspective and functioning as a female voice I sometimes wish Free! had more of.

Change is a binary, Haru thinks. It’s a way to perceive difference. It’s also a way to know what has stayed the same.

Mackerel.

Water.

Swimming.

Makoto.

Sometimes Haru thinks about the constants in his life, and imagines switching them out for something else. What if his favourite food was tuna? Or—dare he even go to that extreme—what if his favourite food wasn’t even fish? He might not even look the same—after all, he’s pretty sure his body is made up of more omega-3 fatty acids than anyone he knows.

What if illness robbed him of his ability to swim? It’s real; technically, he’s suffering through the possibility right now, albeit his ailment being far less worrying than, say, cancer. _Olympians_ have been diagnosed with cancer. Injuries have befallen people he’s friends with. But it doesn’t scare him, he thinks. Those are things he can’t actually control, and depending on how grave the situation, he might even have a shot at being able to swim again. In a way, he’s more okay with those maybes than, say, him not having found a home in the water, or simply never learning how to swim. That’s worse than losing the ability to swim, because it means he’d never have known what it feels like.

That’d be incredibly sad, Haru thinks.

If he didn’t have the water… What would he have? Maybe another sport? Haru calls up that memory of Rei at track practice, soaring through the air, arcing past that bar, being part of the sky for that one moment—what would it feel like, to be capable of something like that? It looked as free as he felt in water. Haru thinks it could actually be nice. But it certainly won’t be the same.

“I’m coming in!”

As he hears the bathroom door open, Haru breaks the surface of the water and shakes his hair out of his eyes. He looks at the outstretched hand in front of him.

“Good morning, Haruka-senpai,” says Rei, smiling.

Haru lets himself be helped out of the tub, and thinks about the foreignness of Rei’s hand.

***

“What are you doing?” asks Haru, as he watches Rei grin at his phone. All morning, Rei’s been taking pictures of Haru: of Haru drying his hair, of Haru making toast, of Haru eating said toast with the seaweed soup Rei made while Haru was in the bath.

“I’m reporting to Makoto-senpai,” explains Rei. “Actually, I’m reporting how you’re doing to our entire group chat. You’d know if you turned on your phone. Everyone’s been worried.”

Haru stares, then lets out a soft:

“Huh?”

Rei meets his stare for a beat, then starts scrolling through his messages furiously. “Ah,” he cries, “you haven’t been reading our texts since Tuesday!”

“I’ve been _sick_ since Tuesday.”

“I know,” says Rei, looking like he’s trying very hard to be patient. “That’s why I’m here.”

Haru gives a quiet sigh, then puts down his toast to pick up his soup bowl. “It’s just food poisoning, Rei. I feel fine now.”

“It’s never ‘just’ food poisoning, Haruka-senpai,” says Rei, frowning. “But yes, you do seem well.” Rei pauses, then snaps another picture of Haru drinking his soup. Over the rim of his bowl, Haru narrows his eyes at Rei; Rei mumbles something about it being the last one before tapping furiously on the screen with his thumbs.

Haru doesn’t mind Rei being here, though he does mind the babying. It’s not like he’s never been sick before.

“How was your test?” asks Haru, suddenly remembering why Rei is in Tokyo. Rei, with his brains, has applied to the prestigious University of Tokyo and arrived on Tuesday so he could sit for the exams administered by the university on Wednesday and the day after. Makoto’s apartment was close to a train station that offered a direct train to the university so Rei had arranged to stay with him until Friday morning, when Makoto had to leave for his outdoor practicum in the mountains of Gunma and Rei for Iwatobi, but Haru getting sick really threw a spanner in the works.

Rei gives Haru a triumphant grin and adjusts his glasses. “Let’s just say I’m confident.” His phone buzzes on Haru’s table. “Sorry, Haruka-senpai. Let me just check this text… Oh, it’s Makoto-senpai asking if you’re on top of your meds, I’m just gonna tell him you have three more doses of antibiotics, hang on—”

Haru doesn’t remember much from the past few days, only knowing at some point after he returned from Ibaraki on Tuesday evening, when he finally admitted to himself he needed help, he managed to crawl from the toilet to his bag and fish out his phone to dial Makoto’s number. He hadn’t wanted to trouble Makoto, but he was definitely more comfortable asking Makoto for help than Asahi or Kisumi, who actually live closer to him than Makoto does. Luckily, Makoto had been close by, working a later shift at his part-time job at the pool, and came over immediately after it ended. Haru remembers rejecting Makoto’s suggestion of going to the ER; trying to hydrate with the sports drinks and ice chips that Makoto gave him; being sick through the night; getting supported on Makoto’s ever-reliable shoulders early the next morning, then packed into a taxi before arriving at a clinic, where they stuck an IV into his arm after asking him some questions—all while fighting a raging fever. Makoto then took him home, left him to sleep the rest of the day away, then came back to take Haru’s temperature and make sure Haru was taking his medicine. Haru remembers being asked then if he wanted anything to eat, and gagging at the prospect. Makoto actually _laughed_. Haru doesn’t know why it seemed funny to Makoto; he’d felt like absolute shit and was just being honest.

Makoto was still around Thursday morning, so he likely stayed two nights in a row; Haru remembers enough of Thursday to know he tried to shoo Makoto home by promising he’d set an alarm to make sure he took his antibiotics. Makoto had that ski thing for school to prepare for, Rei was staying over at his place, and he also had a part-time job on top of it all—how he was going to find time to do those things while taking care of Haru, Haru had no idea. Makoto, unfortunately, didn’t trust Haru to be diligent about his medicine and said something about Rei offering to come over after his exams, but by then Haru was starting to feel the soporific effects of the drugs and was too tired to respond.

By Thursday night Makoto had gone home, Haru was feeling better, and Rei was in his apartment, cooking him gruel instead of seeing Tokyo’s sights. It made Haru feel bad, but Rei seemed pleased, proclaiming he was once again taking up the mantle just the way he’d done over a year ago, when Makoto entrusted the role of club president to Rei. It was ‘the natural course of things’, Rei insisted. Haru couldn’t fight that, not when Rei was so convinced.

Haru finishes his toast and drains his soup bowl, feeling hungrier than when he started eating. He gets up from the table to locate his phone. He finds it in his coat pocket, its battery dead. The charger is beside his bed; he plugs the cable in, and watches the screen light up.

“Haruka-senpai, if you’re checking your messages, just a heads-up—there’s going to be about a hundred from our group chat alone,” says Rei, noticing Haru looking at his phone.

Rei’s right; Haru doesn’t even have to open up the chat application—the notifications are a non-stop stream. There’s the group chat with Makoto, Nagisa, Rei and Gou, but that yields a mere 143 messages—the Hidaka swim team group chat, with its 30-odd members, has amassed close to a thousand. Haru taps on it and hits the button that brings him right to the bottom, which show a series of emoji stickers which hardly makes sense, so he scrolls through some of the recent history.

 _This was not how I wanted to get mentioned on the news_ , someone’s written.

_They didn’t say WHICH university though! Takadai probably didn’t want to draw attention_

_It wasn’t just us, other patrons of the inn were affected as well. Some of the staff, too_

_'Training camp from hell’ just took on a whole new meaning_

Haru exits the chat and finds a couple of messages from Asahi, sent on Tuesday.

 _Quite a few of us are down with some sort of gross stomach bug! You?_ , the first one reads. The next one, sent hours later, goes:

_Never mind, I called Makoto. Be careful not to give him the thing, he works with kids!_

Haru gathers that (a) he wasn’t the only one who'd gotten food poisoning during their training camp, (b) it had to do with the inn they’d spent three days at and (c) it was such a big deal that the incident made it into the national news. Also, good thing he hadn’t called Asahi, who obviously hadn’t fared very well himself.

Remembering Asahi’s warning, Haru sends Makoto a message.

_Makoto. Are you feeling all right?_

Makoto’s reply comes swiftly.

_Yes! I’ve lived with sicker children, haha._

That makes sense; having much-younger siblings and working with kids in a pool must mean Makoto plays in the big leagues when it comes to sanitisation. Relieved, Haru shoves the phone in his pocket and goes to the table, getting into a crouch. “Rei.”

“Yes?”

“What time’s your bus?”

“Ah, I’m taking the bullet train. I haven’t bought a ticket yet, though.”

Haru nods. “Let’s go eat mackerel.”

Rei gapes. “You’re in the mood for that already?”

“I’m starving.”

Rei hardens his gaze. “Understood.” He grabs his phone, navigates to his chat app, and presses a button. “Haruka-senpai has asked for mackerel,” Rei speaks into the microphone, his voice an excited crescendo, “I repeat, Haruka-senpai has _asked for mackerel!_ ” Rei hits ‘Send’, and Haru’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

It’s all a little silly, Haru thinks as he plays Nagisa’s voice-recording reply out loud (“Iwatobi’s Vicious Slayer of Mackerel is _ALIIIIIIIIVE!_ ”) but it makes Haru’s heart light, and Haru figures that if his friends showing their concern through silly voice messages makes him happy, then so be it. Nobody’s getting embarrassed but him, anyway; he’d be a fool to ask for more.


	2. Maris Serenum Fons

There’s a jerk and a collective gasp from everyone on the bus, and Makoto’s eyes fly open. The driver has yelled an apology and is telling them everything is fine, don’t worry, it was just a hole in the road, they didn’t hit anything. Makoto instinctively hugs his backpack close to his chest, needing something tangible to cling to as he rights his senses, then discovers he’s leaning on the shoulder of the person sitting next to him. His eyes widen in alarm as he realises this person has long hair and breasts.

“Sorry,” he immediately says, straightening, feeling his face burn as he tries to find the right words to redeem himself, to convince the girl he wasn’t trying to do anything inappropriate. “I was really tired, and you weren’t here when I got on—”

“It’s cool, it was only for a minute,” says the girl, waving both hands to assure him. She’s scrunched up her nose and drawn her eyebrows together as she laughs, as if she’s the one who’s gone and made things awkward. “People sleep on my shoulder all the time on public transport. I mean, I’d scream and hit you if I knew you were doing it on purpose, but you weren’t, and I sit tall, so.”

Makoto wasn’t expecting that response, and he can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry.” Makoto looks around, self-conscious, afraid he’s woken half the sleeping bus. “‘I sit tall’…” Makoto laughs again. “You’re hilarious.”

The girl puts on a rueful look, carding fingers through her hair. “I get told that a lot, but I never find myself funny.” She looks at Makoto in the eye and gives him another quirky smile, showing off most of her chin as she tucks her lower lip into her upper one. “You can go back to sleep, by the way. Don’t feel obliged to talk to me, I’m just your seat partner because every other seat was occupied when I got on, and I don’t know anyone on this bus to begin with. We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to.” The girl pauses. “Or we could be friends, but you could still go back to sleep and be friends later.”

Makoto laughs again as he looks around for Saotome, and spots him in the opposite row, snoozing across two seats with his cap covering his face and therefore unlikely to have been useful in warning Makoto that he was falling asleep on someone. Makoto looks to the girl again. “I’m Tachibana Makoto. You?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet.

“Tachibana?” The girl’s face lights up, and she’s trying very hard to whisper even in her excitement. “I’m a Tachibana too! Is your Tachibana written with one character or two?”

“One.”

“Same!” They grin at each other.

“My name’s Kai.” Kai drops her voice. “I was supposed to do this practicum last year, but my parents ran into some money problems and I had to take a leave of absence for two semesters because they couldn’t afford to pay the school fees for three kids who were all attending private schools. I think we’re okay now, and while I’m glad to be back,” Kai gestures to the rest of the bus, “I hardly know anyone, and all my friends are now my senpai.” Kai’s chuckle sounds incredibly forlorn.

It’s really hard not to like Kai, Makoto thinks, as he finds himself grinning at everything she’s saying, all brutal honesty and self-deprecation.

“Anyway, do I call you Tachibana, or do you prefer something else?” asks Kai. “You can call me Kai, by the way. I know it’s kind of suddenly familiar, but my whole life I’ve asked my friends to call me by my given name because I have a twin brother who shared a classroom with me for twelve years and I needed to stop feeling rejected every time someone at school told me ‘sorry, not you’.”

“I see, that makes sense.” Another laugh bubbles out of Makoto. “So… Kai-senpai?”

Kai throws her head back and cups her hands over her laugh. “No, no, don’t add the ‘senpai’, people will start wondering why. Just Kai is fine. No need for suffixes or polite speech.”

“Okay. Call me Makoto, then,” says Makoto, giving Kai a slight bow. “Nice to meet you!”

“Right back at you.” Kai bows back.

“Oh, by the way: I have two younger siblings, a sister and a brother, and they’re twins too.”

“No way! _Another_ pair of fraternal Tachibana twins? What are the odds?”

“Exactly!”

They chat in hushed tones about siblings (they both have two), about their own unisex names—Makoto finds out the character for Kai’s name is the one for ‘ocean’, which leads to him reveal he’s not a complete fan of the sea, prompting Kai to clutch at her imaginary pearls and slump against her seat—and they share another silent squeal when they find out they’re both intending to pursue careers in swimming after they graduate. By the time they reach the ski resort, Makoto has found out Kai lives in Saitama, which is why she got on the bus an hour and a half after Makoto did (the bus made a stop in Saitama to pick up the students living there since it made little sense to have them travel down to Tokyo and back up again); she’s on the water polo team (it’s the first time Makoto getting to know someone from the team personally; he’s aware they’re the defending champions of collegiate water polo), and she finds competitive swimming slightly boring, no offence, but her youngest brother’s really into it so she has an inkling of what’s going on in that world; and she’s from a family of swimmers—her mum was an accomplished artistic swimmer in her youth, while her dad has played water polo his whole life. Kai, too, has learnt that Makoto wants to be a trainer for swimming athletes; he’s from a small seaside town called Iwatobi; his best friend’s name is Nanase Haruka, a guy Makoto’s known since kindergarten, and Makoto passed out on the bus not because he was out partying like many of his classmates, but because he spent two sleepless nights the past week looking after Haru, who got food poisoning at training camp.

“Wait—does he go to Hidaka University?” asks Kai, eyes wide.

“How did you know?”

“It was on the news.”

“Really?” Makoto was busy looking after Haru, making sure Rei had everything he needed at his apartment, and preparing for the practicum at the same time; he had no time to watch the news.

“I mean, they didn’t mention the name of the school, but my twin—he’s at Takadai too, and he’s on the student union executive committee so he knows things.”

“Your brother goes to Takadai?!” The world can’t get any smaller, Makoto thinks.

It also takes them getting up for Makoto to realise Kai doesn’t just sit tall; she _is_ tall, not even two inches shorter than he is, and they both have to duck as they manoeuvre out of their seats when it’s time to disembark. Copying Kai, Makoto places a hand on top of the door of the bus to make sure he doesn’t hit his head on the way out.

“Do you get smacked by grab-handles in trains?” asks Kai as she shrugs on her coat once she’s outside. “Like, when you’re looking at your phone and you get up from your seat without looking up?”

“All the time,” Makoto affirms, and they have a good laugh.

Makoto introduces Kai to Saotome, who yawns a greeting as he bows and shudders from the cold, and the three of them decide to hang out together for the rest of the practicum because none of them are exceptionally skilled at skiing yet they’re supposed to get a basic certification this trip to prove they’re good enough to teach it.

If he were being honest, Makoto had half a mind not to attend the outdoor practicum because of Haru. He could replace it with marine sports in second year or camping in third, but he also knows prioritising Haru over his studies would make Haru deeply unhappy if he found out.

From the carpark, they have to head up a strip of snowplowed asphalt to get to the main building of the ski resort. It’s a clear day, replete with blue skies and cumulus clouds, and Makoto figures it’ll be soon before they’ll be indoors, so he doesn’t take out his gloves. He checks his phone as they walk. The last time he looked at it was earlier the morning, to reply a message from Haru asking him if he was feeling okay. He scrolls through a slew of texts, pictures and a couple of voice recordings in the group chat he shares with the founding members of the Iwatobi High School Swim Club, and plays a recording from Rei, reporting how Haru was feeling well enough to eat mackerel. It makes him laugh.

Haru has always been independent, but he’s also the type to deny to himself that he’s actually sick, so Makoto is always extra cautious whenever Haru claims he’s okay. This is why Makoto has been exceptionally grateful that Rei was around, because he wouldn’t have peace of mind if Haru was left by himself so soon after being that sick.

Makoto didn’t want to bother Rei, not when he was sitting for major, life-changing exams—not just anyone could qualify to take those tests; the boy was seriously smart—but he was forced to tell Rei what was going on, since he wasn’t going to be at his apartment as promised. It wasn’t that terrible to leave Rei alone, given how he could sleep on the bed instead of the floor and had visited before, so he already knew the area. Being alone in the apartment also meant he could study in peace and quiet. The problem was assuring Rei that Haru being sick was nothing to worry about.

Rei, thankfully, was his usual pragmatic self, and promised Makoto he would focus on the tests, but if Haruka-senpai wasn’t well by the time he was done, he would be willing to go over to his place to make sure things were okay, because surely Makoto-senpai needed some sleep before a physically demanding winter practicum? Makoto couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t want to fall asleep on a ski lift and die or something, so he obediently relinquished all nursing duties on Thursday evening to Rei and went home.

“Your friend doing okay?” asks Kai, turning around to look at Makoto as she walks backwards up the slope they’re ascending, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets.

“Yup! He’s eating mackerel again. All is well.”

“Send them a picture to let them know you arrived safely,” advises Saotome, and Makoto thinks it’s a great idea. He turns the camera to selfie mode and makes sure it frames the ski lodge, the snowcapped mountains, and the people he's hoping would be his partners for the trip. “Look here,” calls Makoto, stopping to take the picture. Saotome makes a peace sign; Kai throws up her hands and yells hello.

Laughing, Makoto clicks the shutter, feeling tremendously lucky for being surrounded by friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this fic a year ago. So glad it's seeing the light of day!
> 
> That's the first two chapters. Every chapter is a switch in perspective, and the chapter titles don't have particular meanings except they correspond to Haru's and Makoto's initials.
> 
> Next instalment coming on Sunday :)


	3. Humpback Crisis

The water doesn’t welcome Haru today; he finishes practice with some of the worst times he’s clocked, and he’s trying his best not to be too upset about it. It’s hard though, because his fellow food poisoning victims have all seemed to bounce back perfectly even though it’s their first day back at practice. Mikoshiba-senpai even broke a personal best. Haru sulks by the pool, a towel curtaining his face.

Haru doesn’t understand why he’s not performing. He doesn’t _feel_ physically weak, so it must be in his head.

It’s always in his head.

Haru pictures every one of his rivals: Rin, racing unbridled towards a goal he so fiercely protects; Ikuya, always evolving perfectly after battling himself; Albert—every stroke unique and dominant, truly a creature of a different realm. (He’d count Kinjou if he was being fair, but Kinjou’s an ass.)

It’s as if they all seem to know what they’re doing: how to break out of their cages, rectify their problems, see things in perspective. Haru wants to swim freely, but that’s all he knows. That might’ve been enough for him before, but it’s not like that anymore. He’s here because he needs to get to the next pitstop in the journey, the one that’s supposed to show him the world, but he can’t do that if he’s fumbling in the dark.

“How’s our Vicious Slayer of Mackerel today?”

Haru stills for a moment as he realises whose voice it is, then gets to his feet, his towel slipping past his shoulders and onto the floor. “Nagisa…?”

Nagisa grins up at him.

“Hi, Haru-chan.”

***

Haru grips the strap of his bag as they make their way up the steps leading to the elevated walkway. “So you’re going to have to study while you work?”

Nagisa grins. “Something like that, yes. It’s not technically work yet, though.” Someone rushing towards the train station bumps hard into Nagisa’s shoulder; he pitches forward but thankfully Haru has good enough reflexes to grab the back of Nagisa’s jacket and yank him back.

“Thanks,” wheezes Nagisa, rubbing his shoulder. “I need to be better friends with Tokyo since I’m living here now too, huh?”

“What do you mean it’s not work? They’re not paying you?” Haru goes on, still unable to wrap his head around the idea.

“Well, they’re giving me an allowance. We’re going to get jobs, I think, but not immediately.”

“And swimming?” Haru feels his throat closing up at the thought of Nagisa having to give it up.

“I won’t be able to devote as much time to it, but one of the reasons why they want me is _because_ I can swim.” Nagisa is trying to sound reassuring, Haru can tell. "Competition is tough in the industry, Haru-chan. Having a special skill helps you be niche, and mine happens to be swimming. They’ll find ways to make sure I don’t get rusty.”

“But you’ll be juggling so many things at once.”

“I’ll manage,” says Nagisa with his usual cheer.

Haru moves towards a nearby bench, suddenly finding the need to sit down. He doesn’t know _what_ he’s feeling, but it’s a lot of things at once.

“Isn’t this... a big deal?” asks Haru, looking up at Nagisa, who’s come to stand in front of him.

Nagisa steeples his fingers and cocks his head, bright-eyed. “It is.”

“And your parents… They know, right?”

“Of course. My mum went with me to sign the contract.”

“They support you?”

Nagisa’s smile is genuine, radiant. “They do.”

Haru takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “You came looking for me just to tell me this?”

Nagisa nods, then plonks himself down on the bench beside Haru. “I wanted to thank you, Haru-chan.”

Haru looks up in surprise. “What for?”

Nagisa laughs, looking up at the darkening sky. “Do you remember when I was at your house last summer, and we were talking about what we wanted to become?”

“When you were at my house… You mean the time you ran away from home?”

“Ah, don’t call it that,” says Nagisa, laughing weakly.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“Anyway,” Nagisa gives Haru a pointed stare, “I remember you told me: ‘I can see you becoming anything you want.’” Nagisa pauses. “Do you remember, Haru-chan?”

“Yes.” Haru gives Nagisa a little smile. “I’ve always thought that about you.”

Nagisa returns Haru’s smile with a big one of his own. “When I was trying to figure out what I really wanted to do after high school, those words kept playing in my head. When we were talking about it I don’t remember it leaving me particularly impressed, so I kept wondering why you saying it meant so much to me—until I realised it was something no one ever said to my face. You were the first.” Nagisa takes a deep breath, then throws his arms around Haru. “Thank you, Haru-chan!”

“Nagisa…”

Nagisa releases Haru from the hug and sits up straight, fisting his hands on his knees. “This is the scariest thing I’ve done in my life, but I can’t wait for it to happen.”

Haru doesn’t know what to say. He has a lot of questions, questions that are preventing him from being completely supportive. “Are you sure about all this, Nagisa? It seems so sudden.”

Nagisa looks sheepish now. “It’s not. It all started six months ago—I wanted to tell you and Mako-chan over New Year’s, but I didn’t want to jump the gun either since I wasn’t sure if I was going to get to do it. I’d promised my parents I wouldn’t give up going to university, and the talent agency warned me that not everyone manages to balance their studies and their showbiz activities successfully… There were a lot of things up in the air, and I felt like telling people would—” Nagisa rocks his shoulders, searching for the words, “—make the things real enough for the world to wreck them.”

Haru feels something catch in his chest. He remembers feeling that way, when he thought things like faster times and rivalries would rob him of the freedom that swimming brought.

“What happened six months ago?” asks Haru. He does the math, and realises it must’ve been in summer. Which means—

“I was in Tokyo to watch you race at the All-Japan.” Nagisa poises a finger on his chin, recalling. “I went for dinner with the guys from Samezuka after that, and a guy in a suit approached us while we were waiting for the train. He gave me his name card; Rei-chan was worried it was a scam, but Momo-chan got really excited and swore on his brother’s swimming career that the guy in the suit was from the same talent agency that produced Style Five.”

“Style Five?”

“You know, that idol group?”

Haru shakes his head. He doesn’t even turn on the TV as background noise; since he started swimming again in high school, it became a running joke among his classmates that he knew nothing about pop culture.

“I guess if anyone didn’t know who Style Five was, it’d be you.” Nagisa grins.

“So… That was it? You thought you wanted to become an idol, and called the man in the suit?”

“Oh, no.” Nagisa waves a hand. “After coming back from Tokyo, I told my family I got scouted. To me it was just a souvenir story I wanted to share with them to get a laugh, but my sister, who’s really into idols, begged me to call the scout back. I told her it wasn’t a realistic option for me, but she called a family meeting the next day and came up with an entire presentation, complete with visual aids, to convince me and my parents. We decided finding out more wouldn’t hurt, and somehow before I knew it I was meeting the agency president and participating in a dance lesson.”

Haru tries to picture Nagisa dancing. “How did you do?”

“I sucked.” Nagisa laughs. “But it also made me realise I liked the idea of doing something that I’d never seen myself doing before.” Nagisa raises his arms in a stretch, squeezing his eyes shut. “The thought that there’s a me out there that I’ve never imagined; a dream I’ve never dreamed of, waiting for me—it makes me really excited and happy, Haru-chan!”

Haru has known Nagisa for most of his life, but he doesn’t think they became friends right from the beginning—for a long time he’d recognised Nagisa as the boy who was fastest at the breaststroke, but he didn’t know his name. Nagisa, on the other hand, definitely knew his; Haru has memories of Nagisa shouting ‘byebye, Nanase-kun’ after swimming class, waving to him so hard Haru thought his arm was going to pop off. It was only because they swam in that relay with Rin that they got closer, and Nagisa started calling him ‘Haru-chan’.

Haru remembers a long, long time ago, Gou had asked him why he lets Nagisa call him ‘Haru-chan’, but steadfastly corrects everyone else. Gou herself had her own battles to fight when it came to Nagisa addressing her the way she wanted so Haru got why she was asking him, but he thought she should have already had the answer: Nagisa has a dogged persistence when it comes to certain things, like attaching terms of endearment to names; or convincing his friends to swim with him, no matter if they didn’t want to swim for medals or couldn’t swim at all; or dragging someone who’s down and out to something they’re not in the mood for—like during their first ever competition as the Iwatobi swim team, when Haru had felt so lost after Rin declared he’d never swim with Haru again. But that had woken Haru to a truth that some things were indeed worth fighting for—doing those things didn't diminish his fears, but they amplified how much he wasn’t alone.

Time and time again Nagisa has shown Haru courage sometimes disguises itself as tomfoolery, and sometimes it’s just better to dive head-in into something without thinking of the consequences, because the worst that could happen was nothing greater than what one could handle. It’s how he loves, Haru thinks, and Nagisa’s love can be a powerful thing, embodying a wondrous magic that makes the impossible _real_.

“Today I had some of the worst times I’ve ever clocked,” says Haru, the words bubbling out of him.

Nagisa blinks, though he doesn't stay nonplussed for very long. “Um, Haru-chan? You just recovered from food poisoning. You know that affects performance, right?”

“Maybe, but my performance hasn’t been consistent throughout the entire off-season. I have good days, but mostly I feel like I’m swimming in a really long, really dark tunnel.” Haru gives a soft sigh. “But thanks to you, I think I now see the light at the end.”

Nagisa’s eyes turn large. “What did I do?”

_A me out there… that I’ve never imagined._

_A dream I’ve never dreamed of, waiting for me._

“I think you’ve helped me realise that I don’t have to picture myself at the end of my journey because taking on the world doesn’t mean I have to cling on to lofty ideals, or goals that I’ve had to make up for myself.”

Nagisa tilts his head, brow furrowing. “I just came to tell you that I’ll be in Tokyo from now on…”

“To be an idol while attending university, Nagisa. Nothing about that is ordinary.” Haru pauses. “And yet you’re more excited than afraid.”

Nagisa falls silent. “I think I get it.” He gives a slow nod. “But just to be clear, I’m excited not because I’m fearless—I’m like this because there’s no point in being afraid. I mean, it’s like what Haru-chan likes to say: I choose to,” Nagisa holds up a finger sagely, “swim free.”

Haru smiles. “Indeed.”


	4. Motley

“Are you going out with Kai or something?” asks Saotome out of the blue, stunning Makoto. “Because if you are, I’m gonna give you two some space and not hang around so much.”

Makoto blinks. “I’m not. What makes you say that?” Does it look like he’s interested in Kai? Makoto hopes not; he doesn’t want to send her the wrong message.

“You’ve been really close since the ski trip.”

“We have?”

“It’s _spring break_ , Tachibana. We don’t even have regular classes right now, and you guys are going out of your way to see each other.”

“I won’t call it that. She comes to school for water polo practice, you know. We just meet up when we both happen to be free.”

“And the days she doesn’t have practice, she hangs out with you in the library.”

“But you’re there too!”

“That’s because I'm actually behind and _need_ to study.” Saotome smiles at his curry, chasing a chunk of potato with his spoon. “I think you make a fun pair, actually.” He looks up at Makoto. “Why not think about it?”

Makoto manages to smile back, weakly, and tries _not_ to think about it.

There’s always been something about himself Makoto can’t quite put a finger on. He understands attraction: he likes looking at people in beautiful clothes, he knows what types of faces appeal to him, and he’s capable of appreciating nakedness as an aesthetic. He doesn't, however, feel anything stirring—in both his heart and his pants—when he finds himself being attracted to people this way, which has led him to realise these feelings are more related to enjoying art than falling in love.

Makoto thus isn’t sure that he knows what falling in love means, not when he’s been taught that it’s something that manifests in very concrete self-expression when people love each other. He’s worldly enough to be aware that these people don’t necessarily have to be of the opposite sex, and the number of people involved sometimes isn’t restricted to two. Makoto _knows_ all of this, but none of it applies to him, because the closest he’s come to loving anyone in a special way is Haru.

It’d be a lot simpler if Makoto liked other boys the same way he likes Haru; or if there’d been a moment of reckoning, like if he woke up one day desiring Haru in a way that would at least _hint_ to him that he’s in love—but Makoto’s loved Haru this way his whole life. He doesn’t know what it feels like not to. He’s never felt this way for anyone else either, but he’s sure it’s not the passionate, heart-wrenching, feverishly-divest-oneself-of-clothing kind of love that people seem to experience in fiction.

This love feels _normal_. It’s something he’s always known, always felt.

“Ah,” says Saotome, and he puts up a hand in a wave. “Speak of the devil.”

Makoto turns to see Kai, waving to them across the cafeteria. She’s with a couple of second-years from their course—they must be the friends she made last year—and they all have their phones out, probably scheduling something. Kai nods and starts bidding them goodbye, pointing to Makoto and Saotome, who give a quick bow as the group of upperclassmen look their way, some of them offering smiles and waving. Moments later, Kai has come over to their table, beaming.

“Hey Makoto, Sacchon. What are you doing after this?”

“I’m meeting my girlfriend,” says Saotome, before sighing, “at our part-time job.”

“I have to go to my part-time job too, but I’m on the last shift at the pool so I’m in no hurry,” answers Makoto. “What’s up?”

Kai jabs a thumb in the direction of her friends, who are just leaving the cafeteria. “I’ve got no afternoon practice today so I’m going to Takadai to watch a volleyball match with that lot. Wanna go? I was hoping to introduce them to my brother, it’d be great if you were there too.”

“Takadai? I’m headed that way,” says Makoto, “but if we’re going there I’m thinking of going to see my friends swim instead….” Saotome is giving him an odd look; Makoto doesn’t exactly know what it means, but decides to ignore it.

“Sure,” says Kai, stepping away from the table. “They’re going ahead without me because I have to go to the admin office to drop off some forms. Could you wait for me?”

“Okay,” says Makoto. “See you in fifteen minutes back here?”

“Fantastic.” Kai waves. "Bye, Sacchon!”

“See you.” Saotome waves back, then turns to Makoto and raises his eyebrows.

Makoto hasn't known Saotome for a very long time, but Makoto knows him well enough to know that if he waits, Saotome will tell him what’s on his mind eventually.

It takes half a minute.

“Tachibana—I’m sorry if the thing I said earlier made you awkward around Kai, but you don’t have to go out of your way to reject her just because of what I said.”

“I wasn’t _rejecting_ her,” says Makoto, bewildered.

“Uh, she asked if you wanted to hang out someplace, you basically said no, but you’re still going because you have other people there you want to be with.”

“Oh.” Saotome has a point. Makoto didn’t see it that way. “But it’s Kai. I didn’t think she’d mind.”

Saotome shrugs. “Hopefully not.”

Makoto meets up with Kai shortly after, and she doesn’t seem any different. Still, Saotome’s words weigh on Makoto, and when they exit the school gates, Makoto decides to ask. He’s only been friends with Kai for a little over a week, but she’s proven to be forthright and genuine; Makoto doesn’t see any reason for him to be any less with her.

“Kai, do you mind that I’m going to see Haru and Asahi swim instead of going to the volleyball match?”

Kai looks at Makoto as if he’s grown an extra head. “Why would I mind?”

“Saotome-kun—” Makoto is about to explain, when he realises he’s going to have to tell Kai what Saotome said about them. It’s an awkward conversation to have, since it’ll mean he’s going to declare her as a friend, nothing more, and he’s afraid she’ll misinterpret it as him thinking she’s unattractive. Which isn’t true at all, because Makoto has never been this fond of a friend who’s a girl before, and—wait, these feelings _are_ platonic, right?

Makoto stops on the pavement and dumps his face into his hands.

“Please don’t tell me Sacchon is trying to matchmake us or something,” says Kai, hitting the nail on the head. Makoto peeks at her through parted fingers.

“He isn’t. But he did say we seem good together and I should think about it,” confesses Makoto, feeling his ears burn.

“God, Sacchon.” Kai rolls her eyes. “I love him, but dude’s as straight as a nail file.”

“Sorry, what?” Makoto doesn’t quite understand Kai’s choice of words.

Kai gestures for Makoto to walk, and he falls into step beside her. “I think most of society has this assumption that when a man and a woman really get along, they must be romantically suitable for each other. I don’t think that’s wrong, but I never understand why romance must be brought into the picture. It’s like platonic friendship is inferior or something. It shouldn’t have to be erased by romance, that's ridiculous.”

Makoto senses that this is a pretty touchy topic for Kai, and he casts a sidelong glance at her. Her eyes are trained on the pavement, her mouth is in a line, and she’s frowning. He feels the need to apologise for bringing it up, but Kai starts speaking again. 

“I don’t think I’d mind dating you, but I don’t want to,” Kai meets Makoto’s eyes, “because the way I like you is already perfect.”

Warmth rushes through Makoto’s veins, and it’s not because he’s embarrassed—he’s touched. He nods. “I feel the same.”

Kai makes a lot of sense, Makoto thinks. He doesn’t know exactly why, but what she’s said makes him think about how he feels about Haru.

Makoto wonders if he can also describe the way he likes Haru as ‘perfect’. Maybe. Most probably. Whatever it is, the feelings they have for each other are already there, and they’ve never felt awkward about it. There’s no need to question it, or agonise over it, or wonder if it’s going to change. That’s enough for Makoto.

They make a turn and get on the street that leads to the train station. Kai adjusts the straps of her backpack, then looks around, checking for something—or, more likely, somebody—before speaking again.

“There’s something about myself that I haven’t been able to tell anyone, but if it's you—I think you can handle it.” Her voice has gone very soft, and Makoto instinctively moves closer to listen.

“I’m listening,” Makoto finds himself saying after a moment’s silence. It’s not like Kai to be this hesitant. She takes a deep breath.

“I’d actually like to find someone to experience romance with and all that, but I’m not interested in having sex with them. At all. The thought of sex literally _frightens_ me.” Kai swallows. “And that’s terrifying, because I’ve heard most people expect the whole package. Also, as if that’s not complicated enough, I’ve realised I’d vastly prefer dating girls. This makes me bi, asexual, romantic and sex-repulsed.” Kai counts off on her fingers, then shoots Makoto an impassive look. “Sacchon isn’t ready for this fabulous queer.”

Makoto buries his mouth in his sleeve, snorting at Kai’s joke. “We don’t have to tell him.”

“Yeah, we don’t.” Kai is blinking rapidly, and it takes a second for Makoto to realise she’s crying. Makoto digs into his pocket and comes up with a packet of tissues, but Kai shakes her head and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands.

“This wasn’t how I envisioned myself coming out,” she manages, her voice cracking halfway. “In my head it was always to someone really close to me, and we were always alone in a room or something. I never thought it’d be to a guy I’ve known for a week while I was walking to the train station.” Kai gives a weak laugh. “But it feels right to tell you. I’m glad it’s you.”

It’s something so private and personal that Makoto wonders if it’s okay that he, of all people, is privy to it, but at the same time he feels honoured that Kai has chosen him. He doesn’t really know what to say, however. Surely it’d be strange to tell her ‘good luck finding someone’—that’d be missing the point, even if she did lead with talking about finding someone to date. Not to mention it could come out as condescending. But would it also be weird to tell her he’s _happy_ that she’s entrusted him with such a precious secret? It’s kind of sappy, and he doesn’t want to make it about him.

Makoto decides not to say anything. Instead, he holds out his hand, splaying his fingers, and gives Kai a reassuring smile.

Kai meets his gaze with surprise, then puts her hand in his, face crumpling again. “If anyone we know sees us, they’d think we’re together,” says Kai, pressing the heel of her other hand against her brow, hiding her eyes.

“True,” says Makoto, tightening his grip on Kai’s hand as they keep on walking. “But we know better.”

Kai nods, and doesn’t stop crying.

It’s only when they get to the station and that Makoto lets go of Kai’s hand. They stop at the side of the entrance, right by the ticket machines, and Makoto feels he needs to give Kai a vote of confidence. Quietly, he tells her:

“You may be all those things, Kai,” Makoto folds down his fingers, mimicking Kai’s earlier counting-off, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you're a really good person and a wonderful friend. So—I get that you’re scared, but don’t be too scared, okay?”

A beat. Makoto wonders if he’s said something wrong, because Kai is just staring at him. Then she explodes.

“Are you trying to make me cry?!” Kai shoves Makoto’s shoulder, causing some heads to turn.

“How is that possible? You’re _already_ crying!” Makoto picks up on a few dirty looks after he says this, and realises how it looks like: a boyfriend who’s totally bullying his girlfriend, and saying all the wrong things to boot. He wonders if he can come to this train station anymore.

Through her tears, Kai laughs. “Sometimes I expect you to say something encouraging, and then you say these _things_ — ‘You’re already crying’, my god. You crack me up.”

Makoto can’t stop himself from grinning. “I wasn’t trying to make you laugh on purpose, but okay.”

“You still have those tissues?”

Makoto pulls out the packet of tissues from his pocket and gives it to Kai. She takes a piece and returns the packet to Makoto, but he asks her to keep it.

“Dude,” Kai sighs, swiping at her eyes, “having to take a leave of absence for a whole year really sucked, but I guess it’s for the best because I got to meet you. Seriously.” Kai reaches over and squeezes Makoto’s arm. “Thanks.”

“Not at all.” Makoto smiles. “I’m glad we met, Kai,” he says, meaning it with all his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saotome's technically not an OC - he's the dude Makoto hangs out with at university! His name isn't made up either - Free is on Netflix Japan and I found his name out from the Netflix subtitles.


	5. Hallowed Gold

It’s past nine when Makoto arrives at Haru’s apartment after his part-time job at the community pool, and it’s only then that Haru realises he hasn’t spoken to Makoto face-to-face since the day he left Haru in Rei’s care. That said, it wasn’t like Haru was conscious enough to actually have a coherent conversation with him.

“Otsukare,” says Haru, putting out a pair of house slippers for Makoto. They saw each other at the Takadai pool earlier—Makoto had come to visit the university with a friend and decided to surprise Haru and Asahi at practice, but then had to leave before it ended to make his shift. Haru texted Makoto when he was done, saying there was dinner available at Haru's house, if Makoto wanted some.

“Thanks. Same to you, you were so close to breaking your record at practice today,” says Makoto, stepping into the living room, shrugging off his backpack. “Smells good!”

“It’s kenchinjiru,” says Haru, pointing to the soup pot.

Makoto gives a small cheer, then goes to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. “I heard from Nagisa that he looked you up after practice?”

“Yeah. He said he called you the week before.”

“Yup. He told me not to tell you yet because he wanted to tell you in person.” Makoto chuckles. “It was hard keeping such a big thing from you at first, but then you got sick and I sort of forgot about it.”

“He hopes to see us soon, he said, but from the looks of it his schedule’s even worse than mine.” Haru takes out a couple of bowls and opens the lid of the rice cooker.

“I know. He’s staying at the agency dorms, training day and night.” Makoto smiles. “But I’m sure he’ll send a text to the group chat soon, since Rei’s results get announced next week.”

Haru nods, then remembers Makoto’s ski practicum. “How was your trip?”

“It was a lot more fun than I expected—I now have a Class Three licence! I’m really grateful for that skiing elective we took in high school now, it was worth all the falling.” Makoto dries his hands on the towel hanging below the sink. “Oh, and I made some new friends too: a couple of fourth-years, who were the facilitators for the trip, and the girl who was in the picture I sent? Her name’s Tachibana too, so we call her Kai; Saotome-kun and I have been hanging out with her a lot. I really hope you can meet her someday, I think you two would get along. She's the one I went with to Takadai today, though she went to watch the friendly match between your volleyball team and ours. Her brother goes to Takadai too, I wonder if Kisumi knows him…”

Something stirs in Haru’s chest, and it’s not entirely pleasant.

It was right before junior high that Haru realised Makoto would find someone he wanted to marry and have children with one day. Haru had never imagined either of them as grownups, but Haru’s mother had said something along the lines of how nice it would be if Haru and Makoto could be neighbours even after they grew up so their children could play together. It was then that realisation hit—having children is the one thing Haru’s companionship can never offer Makoto. It was a weird thing to think about at the time and Haru successfully pushed it away, but right now it’s surfacing like the face of a beast breaking the top of a lake, like in one of those horror movies Makoto detests.

“Oh, and she wants to coach swimming after graduation, too,” says Makoto, sounding fond. He’s been going on for a long minute about this girl; Haru wonders if she’s really that amazing.

Haru believes in the ties that bind, that no matter the distance or circumstances, he will never lose the friendships he’s made and treasured. It’s not just limited to Makoto; he feels the same about Rin, about Nagisa and Rei, about Ikuya and Asahi. And over the course of time all these friendships have branched out and gifted him with more—Gou, Ran and Ren, even Sousuke comes to mind… It’s a long list of siblings, surrogate parents, rivals and teammates. Haru knows this means Makoto’s future partner would also be in Haru’s life—as another person for Haru to know, and possibly come to love.

Strangely, the thought never makes Haru as happy as he thinks it should.

“Sounds like you have a lot in common,” says Haru, picking up the bowls of rice. “Could you move the mackerel from the wire rack to the plates?”

Makoto collects a pair of chopsticks from the strainer, laughing. “Yes, but she thinks competitive swimming is boring, so there’s that.”

“And that’s a dealbreaker for you?” says Haru, wishing for Makoto to say yes. The thought makes him guilty, and he immediately tries to quell it.

“Dealbreaker?” Makoto’s hands stop, hovering above the plates of fish. His eyes meet Haru’s, and he looks genuinely confused.

It takes a second for Makoto to realise what Haru was getting at.

“Oh, no - we’re not - I don’t - She’s isn’t—” Makoto is gesturing with the wire rack and the chopsticks, and Haru gives him a few seconds before pointing to them.

“Makoto,” he says, levelly.

Makoto stops, utensils pausing in mid-air. “Kai and I are not interested in each other in that way.” Makoto’s ears have gone a flaming red. “We, uh - we had a talk about it after Saotome-kun pointed out how well we get along. We’re friends, permanently. Platonically.”

Relief washes over Haru, and he’s quickly ashamed of it.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” says Haru, squeezing past Makoto to get to the soup pot. “It’s your life. Your friends.”

Haru feels Makoto studying him as he retrieves the soup bowls; he wills his mind to focus on the sole task of ladling _kenchinjiru_ into them so Makoto can’t read him.

“I’ll take these out,” says Makoto, picking up the mackerel he’s plated. Haru nods, and starts filling the other bowl with soup.

They’ve never talked about girls or relationships, save for the one time in high school Nagisa had dared Haru to talk about his first love and he told the swim team about the first time he ever saw a waterfall. (It was majestic, Haru is sure that’s the closest to love at first sight he’s ever come to, and he’s not taking any of it back.) That said, Makoto did make a flyaway comment once about how Haru would make a good husband, but that was mainly because Haru was teaching him how to cook—something Makoto still wasn't quite good at—and it’d been one of those situations where Makoto obviously thought he was paying Haru a compliment; Haru simply told him that he wasn’t interested in marriage at all—which is still true—and they sort of left it at that.

Haru isn’t sure if they’ve actively avoided talking about it, or they’ve just never seen the need to. There’s always been a tacit understanding that no matter what happens, their friendship will be exactly the same as it's always been, for no better reason than it being their normal. This was also the reason why Haru kept Makoto out of his business with Rin for three whole years, not telling Makoto that the reason why he quit the swim team in junior high was because he’d capsized Rin’s dreams—Makoto would’ve tried to make Haru feel better about it, and Haru would’ve let him. Haru knew too well where Makoto’s loyalties lay; he didn’t want to risk escaping punishment because of it. And most importantly, he knew Makoto would never fail to understand why Haru chose not to tell him.

It’s this trust that Haru has fallen back on for the past two decades, and nothing will change it. But knowing that Makoto was able to talk to his friend Kai so openly about the direction and nature of their relationship gives rise to some complicated feelings—was Makoto able to do it because Kai is a woman, or was he able to do it because it's easier to trust Kai, who's like a clean slate when it comes to friendship, than he does Haru, with whom Makoto's shared so much history?

For Haru, romantic relationships have never been a priority. He’s never been interested in pursuing one, and he’s never been particularly sensitive about how people see him as an object of affection. He didn’t like it when people teased him and Kisumi in junior high for being a couple after he was fed something on a fork by the guy, but that was mainly because he truly didn’t like Kisumi that way, and not just because he was bothered by people thinking he was into guys. Because how can he be into guys if he’s not into anyone?

It’d be a lot easier if Haru at least knew who he wanted to have sex with. That’s what all the textbooks say, after all—sexual attraction is _the_ marker when it comes to knowing which way one sways. The problem is, before he can even answer that, Haru has a weird relationship with sex: he neither hates nor craves it. He likes _orgasms_ , that he knows, but he isn’t sure it counts as sex if it’s just him and his right hand. He thinks he might not be too averse doing it with someone else, if the opportunity or desire arose, but he’s actually never experienced the inclination to. He’s tried imagining himself having sex with his friends, men and women included, just to emulsify the idea—but he’s never felt anything for everything that plays out in his head. Even picturing _Makoto_ doesn’t do anything for him, and of all his friends he probably likes Makoto the best. In any case, imagining them in those situations feels like a violation of trust, so Haru doesn’t often let his mind go there. Not that it needs to go there for him to enjoy his orgasms. He likes them as passionless as they are. 

Haru has always assumed that people around him are aware of his disinterest in romance. Makoto _has_ to know—he’s Makoto. Rin certainly knows, especially after their trip to Australia where the hotel’s mix-up caused them to have to share a bed, and Haru honestly couldn’t care less even when Rin tried to pick a fight about how Haru’s name was too girly and that’s why the hotel thought they were a couple. (It was a ridiculous argument anyway—there was no way non-Japanese speakers would ever figure out their names leant towards the female end of unisex. Rin was just trying to be difficult. But it’s not like Haru didn’t try to retaliate—one did not just give in when it came to fights with Matsuoka Rin, silly arguments or otherwise.)

But that’s just Haru. That’s something that pertains only to him, something that’s personal to him and him only. That’s why he has a say. However his friends lead their lives, whatever decisions they make when it comes to finding a partner or staying single or sleeping around—it’s none of his business, and he doesn’t see the point of caring enough to judge. That’s what Haru believes, and for the most part it’s true. He knows he won’t be bothered if Rin came back to Japan with a foreign girlfriend in tow and announced they were going to get married in October, for example. Haru won’t even bat an eyelid if Rin said he was going to elope with _Sousuke_ , to be honest, he knows he’ll accept it and continue being friends with Rin, no matter what. But whenever Haru imagines Makoto in those situations, he feels his gut bottoming out and his mouth going dry. He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s completely uncharacteristic of Makoto to do those things—and it’s not that his opinion of Rin is _low_ , he merely thinks of Rin as unpredictable—or if it’s because he and Makoto love each other differently from the way they love everyone else, but Makoto doing anything that Haru can’t imagine feels like a betrayal of some sort.

Haru does know, however, that he doesn’t feel for Makoto the unruly, gut-twisting kind of love or lust that he’s seen played out on TV or in books. It’s something else, something beyond that. Haru doesn’t even know if his feelings have a name.

“Sorry to make you feed me so often,” says Makoto, coming back to the kitchen to help carry the soup to the table. Haru gives him one of the bowls, and grabs his own set of chopsticks.

“I have to cook for myself, and you pass by my place to get home after work. It makes sense for you to eat here,” says Haru. “Also, I’m a better cook than you are.”

Makoto grin reaches all the way to his eyes. “Thank you, Haru-chan.”

Even if he can’t identify these feelings, Haru has felt the same for Makoto. Always.

“Drop the ‘-chan’,” says Haru, folding his legs to sit at the table.

“Okay. My bad.” Makoto’s smile doesn’t falter as he picks up his chopsticks. “Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu,” echoes Haru.

“...Haru, this tastes exactly like my mum’s kenchinjiru!”

“It’s her recipe. I asked for it when we went back for New Year’s.”

“It’s so good!”

“I know.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know.”

This is their normal. It’s always been.

“The daikon is _amazing_ , Haru!”

“Makoto. You’re being really noisy.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just impressed.”

Haru wants to believe that this is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a three-chapter instalment! Again, this fic is completely self-indulgent (I love Makoto being sweet to people, I love Haru and Makoto having complicated feelings for each other, I love platonic relationships between people of different sexes, I LOVE THE IDEA OF NAGISA BEING AN IDOL, I love exploring feelings of people on the ace spectrum), do forgive.
> 
> Next instalment coming in five days!


	6. Muffin Trees and Sugar Frogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy on the OC backstory, do forgive.
> 
> Official Free! credits tell me Rei's brother's name is Tsukasa! I made up everything else. ^_^ Shizuoka and Kanagawa are prefectures near Tokyo; Kanagawa is between Shizuoka and Tokyo. In Japan, it's fairly common for people to be moved around the country for work - Tsukasa is no exception.
> 
> The University of Tokyo's entrance examination results reveal are a pretty big deal! It does get press coverage in real life.
> 
> PS. I'm a fluent Japanese speaker and have spent the past 10 years in Japan. My fic, though written in English, is fairly Japan-ified - I hope this doesn't make the writing stilted!

Not too long ago, Makoto readied himself to let his path diverge completely from Haru’s. He was ready to live in a different city, give up competitive swimming, attend a different college, and say goodbye to Haru and all of their friends. He guessed it would hurt when the time came to leave, but he was 18-going-on-19—he had found something he wanted to do, and it was time to spread his wings and leave the nest. Besides, it wasn’t like he was saying goodbye forever. They’d still be in each other’s lives, some way or another. Haru himself had said it the night before Nationals, after all—there’s no end to them. They’ll be a team, forever.

So when Haru came back to their classroom after a meeting with Amakata-sensei and told Makoto that Hidaka University—in Tokyo—still wanted him despite his performance at Nationals, Makoto collapsed into his chair, unable to contain his happiness at not only the prospect of having Haru with him in Tokyo, but also how Haru was one step closer to a dream he was afraid to dream of just weeks before.

Haru told him he had to speak to his parents before making a decision, but personally, he wanted to go. That sentiment alone was enough for Makoto. He grasped Haru’s hands and managed to croak out a ‘Haru-chan’—Haru blushed as their classmates looked on, and half-heartedly told Makoto to quit it.

***

“I’m so nervous, Haru-chan,” says Makoto, grabbing Haru’s shoulders and shaking him. “Why am I so nervous? I’m not his mother.”

“It’s because you experienced this last year,” says Haru. “And don’t call me ‘Haru-chan’.”

They’re at Tokyo University’s Komaba campus—the results are being announced at noon, and Makoto and Haru have come over to show support for Rei. Most of the horde around them are making their way to the result boards; there are even some news crews around, their big fancy cameras drawing a lot of attention.

Makoto realises Haru is right; he’s antsy because just a year ago he was in Tokyo looking for his examinee number on a board, albeit at a different university, but the atmosphere was very similar. Still, this is the University of Tokyo. Makoto can’t help but feel the stakes are higher.

Makoto’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he draws it out to see he’s gotten a text from Nagisa.

_Mako-chan, are you there already? It’s break-time! Can I video call you???_

Makoto types out his reply.

_We’re a bit early. Still waiting for Rei at the entrance! Call you when he gets here?_

Nagisa replies with a sticker of an emperor penguin chick holding up balloons that spell out ‘OK’.

“Makoto-senpai! Haruka-senpai!”

Makoto looks up from his phone to see Rei bounding over. He’s with someone—a dark-haired, bespectacled man in a smart navy trench coat, with a striking resemblance to Rei’s mother. Makoto guesses this has to be his brother. Rei’s mentioned him before—he’s something like 10 years older, and works in Kanagawa, stationed in an area that’s closer to Shizuoka than Tokyo..

“Thanks for coming,” says Rei breathlessly, before gesturing to the man. “This is my elder brother. He surprised me this morning at the bus terminal!” Rei looks delighted to have his brother be here; from the way Rei has spoken about him over the years, it’s evident that he looks up to his brother a lot—Makoto feels honoured to be able to finally meet him today.

“Ryuugazaki Tsukasa,” says the man, giving them a slight bow. “Nice to meet you. You were Rei’s swim club seniors, right?”

“Yes.” Makoto and Haru nod, bowing back, leaving Rei to introduce them properly, which, in true Rei fashion, he does with much more adoration than necessary.

“Onii-san, you came all the way from Kanagawa?” asks Makoto.

“Yes. I took most of the day off,” says Tsukasa, smiling. “It’s really decent of you to be here for Rei, by the way.” Tsukasa claps Rei on the shoulder. “You’re really lucky to have senpai like these, you know.”

“I know, Nii-san.” Rei is looking a little teary-eyed. “I’m so glad all of you are here!”

“Nagisa is in the middle of training right now, but he wants us to video call him when you enter the results area,” says Makoto, gesturing to the boards a few metres away. There are some students from the university holding up placards, guiding visitors into lanes. “I haven’t heard anything from Gou, though.”

“Ah, Gou’s in Tokyo too, but she’s checking on her own acceptance result. We’re keeping in touch. Also, Rin-san texted me today to make sure I let him know how things turn out.” Rei smiles.

“How are you feeling, Rei?” asks Haru.

Rei contemplates the question, breathing deeply, pulls the folds of his jacket tighter around himself. “Not too good. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“I have a sickie bag,” says Haru immediately.

“Why would you have a sickie bag?” asks Makoto, taken aback.

“I always have a sickie bag on me now,” says Haru darkly, and then it clicks; Makoto and Rei let out a long-drawn ‘ah’ in understanding. Tsukasa is clueless, so Rei explains that Haru had a massive bout of food poisoning just two weeks ago and had the unpleasant experience of throwing up in a place he didn't want to.

“Ah,” Tsukasa echoes.

Rei turns to his brother. “If I don’t get in, tell Okaa-san I’m sorry!”

“Don't be dramatic,” says Tsukasa, laughing. “I didn’t get in my first try and spent an extra year preparing for the exams—our mum’s heard enough apologies, don’t worry.”

“Onii-san, you went here?” asks Makoto, eyes widening, impressed.

“And not only for the prestige—there are reasons that would surprise you,” Rei cuts in, adjusting his glasses.

“You liked their mascot,” says Haru, his tone serious and understanding.

“No.” Tsukasa gives them a sheepish grin. “I really wanted to join their Lego Club. They did make a Lego version of one of the university’s mascots, though.”

“There’s more than one mascot?” asks Haru, a gleam in his eye, and Makoto clamps down on a laugh.

“All right, everyone,” Rei lets out a whoosh of air past his lips, “I’m glad I got to have this conversation with all of you, it’s really helped me relax.” He looks at each of them, a picture of conviction. “I’m going in.”

“Should we go with you?” asks Tsukasa.

“No—I want to do this on my own.”

Makoto, Haru and Tsukasa head over to the sidelines, where a crowd of spectators already are. Some have their phones whipped out, filming their relatives or friends, and Makoto pulls out his own phone to call Nagisa, fixing in his earphones for privacy. Beside him, Haru is asking Tsukasa about the Tokyo U mascots, and he draws a sharp, brazenly audible intake of air when Tsukasa says the one for Komaba Campus is a yellow frog wearing a mortarboard. Makoto will never understand Haru’s love for mascots, but he finds that aspect of Haru terribly endearing.

Nagisa answers after three rings, and Makoto is glad to see he still looks the same, except a lot sweatier than usual. Nagisa shows Makoto the dance studio he’s in, and Makoto catches sight of a dozen other guys reflected in the mirrored walls. They’re sprawled on the floor, chewing on sandwiches, stretching, chatting with each other, playing with their phones. Looks like it’s break time for them, too.

Makoto tells Nagisa that Rei has just gone to look at the board, before switching on the back camera to show Nagisa where Rei is, positioning his finger so it points Rei out. Rei is checking his phone as he glances at the boards, likely confirming his examinee number. Knowing Rei, he would’ve memorised the number already, but it’s also really on-brand for him to be extra cautious.

“I’m so nervous!” squeals Nagisa in the little rectangle on his screen, and Makoto notices he’s icing his neck.

“Are you okay, Nagisa? Your neck.”

“Oh yeah. It’s all right, just a bit overstretched.”

Haru leans over to peer at the screen. “Nagisa,” he says, giving a small wave.

“He can’t see you, the camera’s pointing to Rei,” says Makoto, but Nagisa hears Haru and screams ‘Haru-chaaaan’ in Makoto’s ear. Makoto plucks out an earbud and hands it to Haru.

“What’s wrong with your neck, Nagisa?” asks Haru.

“Overstretched,” says Makoto and Nagisa together.

“From dancing?” asks Haru.

“From yoga,” says Nagisa, before letting out a short shriek. “He’s coming back!”

“Rei’s coming back,” repeats Makoto, as if commentating would calm his nerves. Beside them, Tsukasa is filming too, likely logging the experience for his parents as well.

Rei clutches his phone to his chest and hurries to where they are, lips pinched at the corners, and Makoto’s heart is a deadweight plunging down an elevator shaft.

“Why is he _frowning_ —” Nagisa speaks for all of them.

Rei is now holding his brother’s forearms, glasses slightly askew, and he’s crying and babbling and it takes a lot of soothing from Tsukasa before they figure out what he’s saying:

“I thought I wouldn't get in, I told all of you it was a breeze but I secretly seriously thought I _wouldn’t_ get in, oh god, I thought I wouldn’t get in—”

“So you got in?” shouts Nagisa, and Makoto winces as he pulls out the wire from the earphone jack, switches the camera to face front, and gives Rei his phone.

“ _NAGISA-KUN!_ ” Rei wails when he sees Nagisa on the screen. “I DID IT!”

“YOU DID IT, REI-CHAN!” Nagisa shouts loud enough for the world to hear, and Makoto quickly rushes over to turn down the volume on the speakers.

“All those caffeinated nights!” Rei falls to the floor in a squat, bracing his face. “All those practice papers!”

“All those flashcards! All those breaks we said we’d take but never took!” yells Nagisa. “All those hours we wished we were in the pool!” A pause. “You guys, my Rei-chan got into Todai!” Nagisa sounds further away, and there’s some whooping and hooting in the background; probably from Nagisa’s fellow trainees in the studio.

“Thank you, Nagisa-kun. Thank you,” sobs Rei, before looking up at Makoto, Haru, and his brother, who’s grinning ear to ear. “I love all of you.” Rei looks into Tsukasa’s camera and starts thanking his family. “Thanks, Okaa-san! Thanks, Otou-san! Thanks, Nii-san!” Tsukasa laughs, and stops recording; it’s then that Makoto notices there are tear tracks on Tsukasa’s face. Makoto’s heart feels full—he’s already always struggling to keep it together when Ran or Ren so much as win a kickboard race; he can’t imagine being okay if they do something like getting into the University of Tokyo.

Nagisa promises to meet up with Rei soon, and Rei tells him not to go yet—he wants to take a picture with his swim team, and Makoto cracks up when he realises Rei wants Nagisa to be in the photo as a face on a tiny screen. Rei hands his phone to his brother for the photo; Makoto checks his chat app to make sure Nagisa isn’t a mere thumbnail; with the camera facing this way, it’s the first time Nagisa gets to see Tsukasa’s face during the whole conversation, and he lets out an excited ‘long time no see, Onii-chan’, making Makoto wonder why Nagisa has met Tsukasa before and they haven't; Haru scoots around to Rei’s other side so he’s in the middle, and Tsukasa counts down before snapping the photo.

“This is hilarious, it’s like you’re holding my mini funeral portrait,” says Nagisa, giggling as Rei shows him the photo through the camera.

“Don’t say that!” exclaims Rei, indignant. “And take care of that neck!”

Nagisa laughs, then thanks Makoto for connecting the call before telling them he has to go back to training.

“Love all of you!” yells Nagisa, before disconnecting.

As Makoto slips his phone back into his pocket, he notices that around them, people are still finding out their results, some reacting with histrionic shouts and fist pumps, other quietly retreating with their heads hung low. Makoto is extremely relieved Rei’s outcome has turned out positive.

“Onii-san,” says Haru suddenly. “You should have a picture with Rei. Give me your phone, Rei.”

Tsukasa and Rei appear utterly surprised at Haru’s prompting; Makoto gets it—for someone with a facade as cool as Haru’s, it’s hard to imagine him offering a gesture as warm as this. But there's no denying Haru deeply treasures his friends, and actually pays a great deal of attention to what’s going on around him.

It’s approaching one in the afternoon—Makoto has to go back to school for his day-long seminar, having come over on his lunch break, and Haru is meeting with his coach to discuss a training plan. Rei thanks them again and promises to be in touch; Tsukasa mentions something about looking up real estate agencies in the area. Haru says the one he’s contracted with is close by, and goes on to forward Kisumi’s uncle’s contact to Rei. They then say their goodbyes, and Makoto and Haru leave for the train station.

“Do you need to get anything to eat, Haru?” asks Makoto. Haru shakes his head.

“I’m eating with Coach Azuma. You?”

“I have classes right after this, but I had a sandwich on the way here so I’m not too hungry.”

“All right. You’re coming over tomorrow night, right?”

“Yup. I have an earlier shift, though, so I might be done before you come home from practice.”

“Okay. You have the spare key, so just let yourself in.”

“Got it. Shall I do the grocery shopping?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll send you the list tonight.” Haru pauses. “It’ll be nice to have Rei over at some point, since he’s moving here.”

Makoto smiles. “Nagisa, too. His dorm actually isn’t too far away, but they’re pretty strict about curfew, and I don’t think he’s got any days off until first semester starts.”

Haru is looking pensive, and Makoto has an idea of what he’s thinking about.

“It’s amazing how we all ended up in Tokyo, don’t you think?” Makoto shoves his hands into his coat pockets and smiles at Haru.

“Yeah.” Haru takes a moment before meeting Makoto’s eyes, and he’s smiling back. “I'm really grateful to Nagisa and Rei. And… I’m also extremely proud of them. Gou, too, actually—I feel like we don’t thank her enough. If she didn’t enter us in the relay during the team’s first competition, I don’t think any of us would be where we are now.”

Warmth envelopes Makoto’s heart; Haru may usually be quiet, but when he speaks, he tends to speak his mind, and sometimes the way he says things is astonishingly tender.

“I don’t get this with anyone else,” Haru goes on, “this feeling that I’m proud of someone. I want the best for all my friends, but with them… It’s more than that.”

“I get it,” says Makoto. “As their senpai, we were once responsible for them, after all. We protected them, supported them,” Makoto then slides his eyes slyly in Haru’s direction, “impressed them so much that they quit track-and-field, learnt swimming from _scratch_ —”

“Jumped into an ocean for them,” continues Haru, looking slightly disapproving.

“And even harboured them like a fugitive when they ran away from home,” counters Makoto.

“I had no idea he’d run away from home.” Haru allows himself another smile. “We’re never going to let Nagisa live that down, huh?” 

“Never,” says Makoto, laughing. “Oh yes—wasn’t it great that Rei’s brother was around today? Rei’s always been very put-together and grownup, but in front of his brother I felt like he was… I can’t really describe it, but I feel like if it had just been the two of us there, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did when he found out his results.”

“I get it. He would’ve been very composed and thanked us formally. Maybe he would’ve even shaken our hands.”

“Exactly. I’m glad that he got to, I don’t know—let go?” Makoto scratches his cheek, hoping those are the right words.

“Yes, it felt like that.”

A thought occurs to Makoto. “I’m actually wondering if you not having siblings makes you feel more connected to our kouhai. They’re the closest thing you have to a younger sibling, don’t you think?”

Haru thinks about this. “Siblings are family, though. People you don’t have a choice but to be tethered to. Some siblings don’t even get along.”

“True. Sharing blood ties doesn’t necessarily mean you’re family.” Makoto takes a moment to ponder. "I guess a family is made up of whoever you choose to recognise is in it, huh? No matter if you’re born into it or not.”

Haru gives a slow nod. “That makes sense. In that case, I guess you count as family too.” Haru blinks. “I mean, along with the others, of course.”

Makoto doesn’t expect to feel so excessively _pleased_ —it’s been a while since Haru’s been this direct about his feelings for Makoto. He knows he’s important to Haru and doesn’t absolutely have to hear the words coming from his mouth, but it’s nice to hear them all the same.

“I’m really happy to hear that, Haru-chan.” Makoto smiles, eyes shuttering.

“Makoto…” Haru shoots him a tired look.

“Sorry,” Makoto chuckles, “Haru.” 

They arrive at the train station, and Makoto pulls out his train pass. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Haru waves his goodbye, and they head for their separate platforms, the smile never leaving Makoto’s face.

***

Kai pokes Makoto’s elbow, making him look up from his notebook. She points to Saotome, who’s on Makoto’s other side, his head buried in the crook of his elbow, completely tuned out to the lecture.

“Is it okay not to wake him up?” she whispers.

“I guess. I’ll lend him my notes later,” Makoto whispers back.

“You’re such a softie,” complains Kai.

“ _You_ offered to lend him your notes yesterday!”

“He had dark eye circles and a humongous zit on his chin, I felt sorry for him!”

“He still has those today, you know.”

“…Fine, I guess we’re both lending him our notes.”

Half an hour later the lecture ends, and Makoto and Kai start packing their bags. Saotome doesn’t move. Kai edges past Makoto to get to him.

“Sacchon.” Kai prods him on the shoulder. “Are you alive?”

Saotome’s fingers twitch. Kai sighs and tugs on his arm. “Come on, Sacchon. Everybody’s gone already.”

Saotome gives a small whimper of ‘five more minutes’. Kai, exasperated, meets Makoto’s eyes and jerks her head at Saotome. Taking his cue, Makoto seizes Saotome’s other arm and says: “Okay, Saotome-kun—time for a coffee break!”

At this, Saotome finally raises his head. “Coffee?” he mumbles hopefully.

Makoto gives Kai a triumphant grin, and together they help Saotome to his feet.

“Stop working the late show at your cinema, dude,” grumbles Kai as they exit the lecture hall. “Not all universities offer seminars like these for first-years—it’s a pretty good deal on our school fees considering we don't have to pay extra, so take advantage of it. For your parents’ sake if not for yours.”

“I know, but it’s spring break, the late shift pays well, plus I don’t feel good letting my girlfriend work the shift alone.” Saotome yawns, dragging a hand down his face.

“You have to send her home too, right?” asks Kai, and Saotome nods. “I mean, it’s the right thing to do, but you gotta stop sleeping in class.”

“Kai’s right,” says Makoto. “Sorry to nag, but it's true.”

“I know,” says Saotome, stretching, popping some of his joints. “It’s only for the time being.” He gives them a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you guys. I really appreciate you lending me your notes.”

The three of them arrive at the cafeteria, and Saotome wanders off to get a coffee. Makoto and Kai haven’t had lunch, so they go over to the stalls to buy something to eat.

“Oh yeah! Did your kouhai get accepted by Todai?”

“He did,” says Makoto, grinning as he pulls out his phone. He opens up the group chat and taps on the picture that Tsukasa took before handing his phone to Kai. “The result boards are at the back. The one in glasses is Rei, our Todai Boy; that’s Haru, my childhood friend; and the one in the smartphone screen that Rei’s holding? That’s Nagisa.”

Kai zooms in on Nagisa. “Oh man, you guys are so cute, including him in the photo like that!”

“I know, it was Rei’s idea.”

Kai then slides her thumb over the screen to look at Haru’s face. “So this is Haru, huh.”

“This is Haru.” Makoto nods proudly.

“He’s super cute,” declares Kai.

Makoto laughs. “He really is.”

Kai merely blinks at Makoto in response. He isn’t sure why, so he just waits for her to come back to the conversation.

“Ah,” says Kai, recovering, just as a message notification drops onto the screen, “you’ve got mail.”

Makoto takes his phone back, and motions for Kai to go ahead of him to buy her food. He taps on the message; it’s from Kisumi, sent to the group chat Makoto shares with Haru, Asahi and him, named ‘Team Takadai… & Makoto’. Kisumi has quoted Makoto’s previous message, and underneath it he’s typed:

_**@Makoto** Yes I know who you’re talking about - HANG ON, WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH HIS ELDER SISTER'_

Makoto had sent the text to the group chat days ago, telling them he met Kai’s brother briefly and asking Kisumi if he knows him, but Kisumi didn’t reply and Asahi had sent a slew of videos of his nephew, and then his mum’s cat, which in all likelihood buried Makoto’s message. Until now.

Makoto is about to reply when another message blinks up at him.

_introduce us?_

It’s from Kisumi, again, and Makoto starts wondering where this is going as he picks up an empty tray and slides it ahead of him on the counter. Before he can type anything, another message comes in. This one’s from Asahi.

_Yo Makoto - just thought you’d like to know Kisumi’s been trying to get a line on this guy for WEEKS. He was scrolling through our group chat for something else and screamed when he realised he missed your message so long story short, Kisumi would worship you if you could make this connection happen_

Makoto pauses the messaging to make his lunch order, then goes back to his phone while he waits for his meal.

 _Kisumi_ , Makoto types into the group chat, _Could I just ask why?_

The pork sauté arrives while Makoto is waiting for Kisumi’s response, and he carries the tray back to the table where Saotome and Kai are already seated. Saotome has a hand wrapped around a large cup of coffee; with his other hand he holds a pair of chopsticks, lifting a pickle to his mouth.

“Coffee and pickles? That’s a strange combination,” remarks Makoto, laying his tray down.

“Yeah, I think so too,” says Saotome.

“So why are you…”

“I don’t eat pickles, but I forgot to tell the server to leave them off my tray,” says Kai around a mouthful of rice, “so I asked Sacchon if he wants them.”

Saotome gives Makoto a lethargic blink. “I’m being nice and un-wasteful.”

Kai beams at Saotome. “Good job, my favourite fencer!”

Saotome picks up another piece of _takuan_ with his chopsticks and raises his coffee. “I hardly ever fence anymore, but okay. Cheers?”

“Cheers.” Kai knocks her glass of water against Saotome’s cup. Makoto laughs at their antics as he settles into his seat.

After she came out to Makoto, Kai had a talk with Saotome. She apparently didn’t come out to him, but she did tell him how she wanted to be friends with both him and Makoto without any weird matchmaking efforts involved. She then told Saotome to treat her as ‘one of the dudes’, and as far as Makoto can see, it’s been happening.

Makoto’s phone then buzzes with Kisumi’s reply.

_Really cool senpai in the student union, zero social media (except a dead YouTube channel), always ON THE MOVE and it’s like everyone I know knows OF him but no one really knows him, and it’s these elusive types that I’m really drawn to_

Makoto can only assume that Kisumi, hardcore social butterfly that he is, simply likes connecting people and connecting with them, so he wants to get to know Kai’s brother in a ‘collect them all’ kind of way. He doesn’t think Kisumi means any harm, even if it does feel kind of phoney, but Makoto supposes that if it’s Kisumi, his motives can’t be _that_ shallow—after all, the guy has proven to be a pretty good friend. Makoto puts his phone down and asks: “Kai, feel free to say no if this sounds weird, but a friend of mine who goes to Takadai really wants to get to know your brother and he’s asked if I can introduce them, but I’ve only met your brother for five seconds and the only thing I know about him is his name, so…” Makoto gives Kai a hopeful look.

Kai’s mouth is full, so Makoto gives her time to swallow.

“Is your friend interested in joining the student union or something?” asks Kai as she reaches for her glass of water.

“I don’t think he’s interested in joining the union. He probably just thinks your brother’s cool? At least, that’s what he said.”

Kai stops. “Did he find out my brother used to play water polo for the All-Japan Youth?”

Makoto rears back, impressed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. They wanted him for the national team, but he was pretty adamant about quitting water polo after he finished high school.”

“Why?”

Kai shrugs. “I think he just wanted to do something else?”

Makoto reads the message again. “I don’t know if my friend knows he used to play water polo, but he’s tried looking your brother up on social media?”

“Ah, he isn’t active on social media.”

“Is it some sort of secret, that he played water polo?” Saotome asks, more alert now with the caffeine flowing through his veins.

“He doesn’t like talking about it because he’s afraid people think he’s bragging about his past, something like that.” Kai takes a bite of her chicken. “He’s always very careful about how he _carries_ himself.” Kai says this with a slight eye-roll. “Also, just to be clear—I’m not trying to badmouth him, I’m just being his concerned elder sister.”

“You’re twins,” Makoto points out.

“Yes, but I came out first,” says Kai smugly.

“Anyway,” says Makoto, waving his phone, “my friend said something about a YouTube channel too…”

“Ah,” Kai nods, “the YouTube channel. His nerdy classical guitar one, right?”

Makoto has no idea. “I guess?”

“Your brother is a water polo star _and_ a musician. Wow,” murmurs Saotome, before taking a sip of his coffee. “How should the rest of us mortals keep up with people like that?”

Kai shakes her head. “Not ‘is’. _Was_. He quit the team right before uni. And he’s not a musician per se—he’s just a nerd who turned their hobby into a job.”

“So he’s a musician,” insists Saotome.

“No, he doesn’t get paid for playing the guitar now. He was a teacher for a while,” Kai corrects Saotome. “When our dad’s business was suffering, both my brother and I went to work—me full-time, him part-time. Unlike me, he didn’t take a leave of absence, so he wanted a job with a high hourly pay. We never thought his classical guitar thing would actually serve him this well—he was the only one in our family who thought mastering a musical instrument was a great way to relax—but yeah, it worked. He found a service that let him teach classical guitar online. That’s how he has the YouTube channel, they’re all like PR videos to let students see what he can do, stuff like that.”

“So he doesn’t teach anymore?” asks Makoto.

“Nope. It was pretty taxing to do on top of school, so when Dad said he could afford to pay our school fees again, my brother stopped working the part-time job.” Kai juts her lips out, frowning. “And then he went to join the student union, so it wasn’t like he got any time off after quitting.”

“What’s his major?”

“Accounting.”

“Ah, that must’ve been tough to do with a part-time job!”

“Yeah. Just as well he didn’t have to juggle water polo in the mix.”

The more Makoto finds out about Kai’s brother, more unsure he is of Kisumi’s reasons to befriend him—Makoto doesn’t think Kisumi is interested in water polo, the student union or classical guitar. And Kisumi’s major is psychology, so Makoto’s quite sure they’re not in the same faculty. He decides to show Kai the message Kisumi sent him, and she grunts in understanding after reading it.

“I can totally see how people know of him but don’t know him.” Kai smirks. “I can’t see him being ‘cool’, though. He’s pretty serious, but ‘cool’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. But yeah—if your friend is drawn to the kind of people who are natural leaders and get shit done well and fast, that’s my brother.”

Makoto thinks about this. Yes, he can actually see Kisumi being attracted to people like that. Kisumi himself is kind of similar, after all.

“Now _I_ want to meet your brother,” says Saotome, taking another swig of his coffee.

“You’re very welcome to, actually. You’d think he’s popular, what with being so active in the student union, but I think he’s actually kind of… I don’t know, one of those actually-introverted-but-appears-extroverted types? He’s really busy at school, but when he’s not doing school stuff he’s always at home. I mean, my family’s really close so we like having him around, but sometimes we’re like, ‘You’re twenty, do you not have friends?’” Kai sighs. “That’s why I wanted to introduce him to my friends when we went over for the volleyball match, but even then he was—” Kai gestures in the air, searching for the right expression.

“Occupied?” says Makoto, remembering the day he’d gone to see Haru and Asahi at practice, and how Kai had waved her brother over while he was on the phone; he’d disconnected his call, introduced his name, told them to enjoy themselves, and, very apologetically, excused himself to go see to something at the student union office even though he’d have really liked to stay.

Kai snaps her fingers. “That's a good word. It’s not like he’s purposely avoiding people or whatever, I think he just doesn’t feel like being social is a priority right now.” Kai puts down her chopsticks, thinking. “Also, something or someone needs him all the time, so the task of finding friends is even lower on the priority list. Even when he isn't at school doing student union stuff—he finds things to busy himself with at home, like helping my youngest brother with his homework, me with drills, my mum with chores. He even helps my dad with the accounts sometimes.”

“Did it always use to be like this?” asks Makoto.

“Sort of?” Kai starts opening her cup of yoghurt. “He was really close to his water polo dudes, and outside of that little circle there weren’t many others that we heard about a lot. I think it might’ve been because he was so deeply involved in water polo, and all his friends were in that god-level tier of the sport, so when he decided not to join the national team it was almost like he left an entire life behind. It's kind of sad—he played with some of the guys in his club team since his first year of junior high. I think they try to keep in touch, but it’s just different when you’re a world apart.”

Makoto thinks of his friends who are competing at the national level, and is hesitant to say he can’t relate.

“He seems happy, however,” says Kai after a while. “Watching him do his thing over the past two years and being good at it? I’m super relieved. Water polo is a big part of our family and we were weird about him quitting at first, but I think he’s shown that he’s capable of excelling at other things. Honestly, that’s all we want for him. I just wish he doesn’t heap so much on his plate. Dude is just too good at what he does, he doesn’t know when to stop.”

“I’m sensing some sibling jealousy…” says Saotome, eyeing Kai.

“I mean,” Kai pulls her spoon out of her mouth, “sure, when I was younger I didn’t like being compared to him so I’d do things half-assed on purpose, but it’s not like that anymore. I’m genuinely concerned he’s going to overwork himself.”

“You know what they say about tuna and how they drop dead when they stop swimming?” Saotome strikes the tabletop with the tip of his forefinger. “Your brother’s a tuna. He’ll die if he takes a break.”

“Wait, what? Tuna fish die when they stop swimming?”

“Technically,” Makoto chimes in, eager to volunteer what he learnt from the _Tobidase! Shinkai Seibutsu_ marine-life game he used to play so often with his siblings and Haru, “it’s more accurate to say they need to keep swimming to keep water, which carries oxygen, running over their gills. Without this motion, they’ll suffocate.”

“I didn't know that!” exclaims Kai.

“It’s pretty common knowledge. For someone who’s literally named after the ocean…” Saotome smirks at Kai.

“‘Eita’ means something like ‘crystal ball’ and I don’t expect you to have orb-related trivia at the ready, do I?” Kai rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I’d actually really like for my brother to have friends. At least, that way he could add them to the priority list and spend time with them. Right now the friends section of the list is empty.”

“I can imagine that if his closest friends are on the national team, they’ll be busier than he is,” says Makoto. “They can’t meet the way they used to.”

“Yeah, you’d know,” agrees Kai. “Your friend circle is ninety per cent elite swimmers.”

“Your best friend didn’t look at his phone for two weeks last summer, right?” asks Saotome.

Makoto nods. “One of our friends isn’t even in Japan most of the year.”

“Wait, so the guy who wants to know Kai’s brother is in the ten per cent non-elite part of your friend circle?” asks Saotome. “In other words, open schedule?”

“Yup.” Makoto pauses. “I’m not saying he’s not _elite_ , though—”

“That’s perfect, then.” Saotome claps his hands twice. “Set them up!”

Kai looks at Makoto. “He’s okay, right? Your friend?”

“Oh, yeah. I went to junior high with him, and taught his little brother for a bit at the swimming club in my hometown. Super friendly guy, really easy to talk to.”

“Okay.” Kai sounds pleased. “From that text you showed me I can only guess there are enough people around campus who’s seen Tachibana Sei doing his leadership thing and want to be his friend but don’t know how to go about it, so it might just be a good thing that I actually introduce him to someone who looks up to him. At least this way we can ensure one of them has vested interest and will hold a decent conversation, no matter what.”

“How should we do it, though?” asks Makoto. “Wouldn’t it be weird if we give them each other’s numbers and say: ‘Here, talk to each other’?”

Kai sucks on her lower lip, her eyebrows wiggling. “I’m trying to think of a situation that isn’t forced, and would actually take my brother off the Takadai campus grounds, because if he’s at school he’ll just be running around trying to give the student body sandwich vending machines or something…”

“Coffee?” suggests Saotome. “Bunch of nice cafes near Takadai.”

“Too easy for him to get out of, and also too much conversation he has to make up.” Kai hums, thinking. “I guess if I ask him to come watch me practice, he will. He knows the coach, plus he’s actually going to be helpful if we ask him to watch us, I think it’s a win-win situation all around… Also he’ll get to _talk_ about water polo, which could be fun for him. And your friend.”

Makoto brightens. “Sounds like a brilliant idea.”

“Can anyone just go in and watch the team?” asks Saotome.

“Sure, everyone’s welcome anytime,” says Kai as she scrabbles for something in her bag. “It’s an unspoken rule that if you’re on another varsity team you don’t come watch us—it’s just manners—but otherwise everyone’s welcome. We get quite a lot of high schoolers dropping by, and some graduates too.” Kai finally finds her phone, and starts tapping on the screen. “I’m just gonna ask my brother if he’s free anytime soon.”

“I’ll let my friend know he’s invited to Meijo Chuo’s famed women’s water polo club practice,” says Makoto, unlocking his phone screen as well.

Saotome turns to Makoto. “Does your friend play water polo?”

“No. He plays basketball, though.”

“Oh, nice! He might catch on to the rules a lot quicker than the layman, then,” says Kai. “Okay—message sent! Operation Get Tachibana Sei New Friends, Step One: complete.”

 _My friend’s on our water polo team and she says you’re welcome to come watch the practice when Tachibana-san’s here too. I’ll update you when he tells us when._ Makoto reads the text he’s composed one last time before sending it out. “Sent,” he reports.

It’s not even two seconds before Makoto receives a reply.

_CLEARING. MY. SCHEDULE. I love you Makoto thank you thank you thank you_

It’s only then that it strikes Makoto: Kisumi might have another reason for wanting to meet Kai’s brother.

Makoto wonders if it’s too personal to ask.


	7. Haversack Fannypack

“It’s not even a match—it’s a _practice?_ ” Asahi shuts the locker and looks at the message again. “Does Kisumi even know anything about water polo?”

Haru adjusts his pants so they’re snug around his hips and starts buttoning the front. He hasn’t been paying much attention to Asahi, thinking about his training regimen instead. Coach Azuma can’t be with him at all hours of every day; he needs to step up his individual training if he wants to get a move on with his prep for the spring season.

“Haru, Kisumi’s asking if you want to go too,” says Asahi, waving his phone, and Haru looks up.

“Go where?” asks Haru.

“The water polo thing?”

Haru draws a blank. Asahi looks at his phone screen again. “‘Read by two’—Haru, you haven’t been checking our group texts again, have you?”

Haru reaches into his bag and powers up his phone.

“It’s not even on?” wails Asahi. “Okay, never mind, I’ll catch you up.” Asahi lets out a dramatic sigh. “Kisumi’s got a massive crush on this guy, can’t shut up about it, and apparently Makoto knows him.”

 _Kai’s brother,_ remembers Haru, recalling how Makoto had wondered out loud if Kisumi knew the guy.

“It’s rare that Makoto has a connection that Kisumi doesn’t,” says Haru.

“I know, right? Kisumi met the guy once, at the vending machines, and he asked if Kisumi could take a quick survey. Our boy was infatuated in five minutes.” Asahi shakes his head.

“I understand. It was like me and that waterfall.”

Asahi squints at Haru. “I don’t think it’s the same, Haru. Anyway,” Asahi shows Haru the calendar on his phone screen, “Makoto invited Kisumi to a water polo practice where the guy’s gonna be, and Kisumi’s asking us to tag along. Wanna go?”

Buttoning up his shirt, Haru goes to stand beside Asahi so he can look at the calendar as well. “He’s one of my best friends,” says Asahi, navigating back to the chat app. “I need to go show him support.” Asahi pauses. “Also I want to see how he embarrasses himself, but don’t tell him that.”

It’s their group chat with Makoto that Asahi and Kisumi are communicating in, and as Haru watches Asahi type up his message to Kisumi, a new message arrives from Makoto.

_**@Kisumi** Of course I’ll be there. It’ll be weird if you show up at my friend’s practice to meet her younger brother and I’m not there!_

“So? Haru?” asks Asahi, hitting ‘Send’ on his message.

Haru is inclined to say no, since he’s not very interested in water polo, but there’s a part of him that’s curious about this Kai person who seems to be such a big part of Makoto’s life recently.

“Makoto’s said he hopes I can meet his friend,” says Haru. “So I’ll go.”

Very slowly, Asahi swivels his head to face Haru. “Haru.” A muscle in his cheek twitches. “Is this, like, a mum-meets-her-daughter-in-law-for-the-first-time kind of situation?”

“What?”

Asahi draws back and regards Haru through half-lidded eyes. “Has Makoto asked you to go meet his girlfriend, is what I’m asking.”

Haru frowns. “It’s not like that. They’re not together.”

Asahi then breaks into a face-splitting grin. “Oh really? Could it be… It’s the other way around?”

Haru is generally pretty good at reading Asahi, but he’s not doing very well today. “What are you trying to say, Asahi?”

“Oh, nothing.” Asahi just _grins_. Haru leaves Asahi's side to go grab his stuff and shut his locker, completely bewildered. “Do you know anything about water polo, Haru?” asks Asahi, changing the subject.

During the previous Olympics Haru had watched a few minutes of a water polo match on TV. It wasn't a game one could just figure out the rules of just by watching, and it quickly bored him.

“No.” Haru takes a moment. “There’s a ball. They wear bonnets. They swim with high elbows.”

Asahi laughs. “Don’t forget how it’s a dangerous contact sport!”

Haru refrains from making a comment about how he doesn’t think there’s much room for aesthetics or form in water polo. He thinks about Rei and his standards of athletic beauty, and reckons Rei might faint if he ever he sees how water polo players abandon that for power.

“That’s about it,” Asahi goes on, “I don’t think I know any more about water polo. Funny how it involves swimming yet I'm so clueless.”

“You and me both.”

Waving goodbye to their teammates on their way out, Haru and Asahi leave the locker room and head for the exit of the natatorium. They just had their last official practice of the school year, and it was the last time they’re going to be able to use their university pool for the rest of spring break; for the next few weeks, the university is opening up the pool to the public, using it for things like free swimming classes for under-privileged kids, all part of their corporate and social responsibility efforts. The gym will still be open, however, so even though they have to swim somewhere else, they still can come back to school for dryland training.

Asahi confides in Haru the time he wants to clock for the 100-metre butterfly during the Nippon Collegiate Open, and Haru thinks it's achievable, as long as Asahi is consistent. As they make their way down the main pathway of the campus core they talk about their fitness plans for the upcoming weeks, discussing workouts. Asahi has some excellent ideas, and Haru takes out his phone to record them down.

“You’re good at this,” says Haru, suddenly remembering. “Weren’t you in-charge of putting the training regimen together during our camp in junior high?”

“You remember! I didn’t allocate any time for breaks back then.” Asahi’s laugh rings in the springtime twilight. “Ikuya was complaining throughout the entire thing.”

“Ikuya’s still always cross with you.” Haru looks at Asahi, feeling a smile coming on.

“He’s a prickly little thing.” Asahi gives Haru a toothy grin. “I wonder what he’s doing now. Haven’t seen him in _ages_. He’s always studying when he’s not swimming, you know? Toono said his GPA is like three-point-two or something! Hardworking bastard.”

Since Haru has already gotten his phone out, he opens up his chat app to locate his conversation with Ikuya. The last exchange they had was weeks ago, when Ikuya had asked Haru how he did for his exams, and if he was free now that they were over. Haru had had the training camp in Ibaraki (now colloquially known amongst the Takadai swim team as 'Norovirus Week') so he couldn’t hang out, but he told Ikuya that they should go out for a meal sometime during spring break.

It's been spring break for three weeks.

“We should ask Captain again about the next combined practice with Shimogaku,” says Haru.

“Oh god, yes. We talked about it in Ibaraki but I think he put it on the back burner when we were all decimated by the norovirus. At this rate, I think it’ll only happen in the summer.”

Haru nods. “When we meet up with Makoto and Kisumi at the water polo practice, let's match up our schedules and find a day to meet up with Ikuya. We can talk about it then.”

“Sounds awesome,” agrees Asahi, beaming. “I think Captain would appreciate it if we got things moving along. After all, we’re going to be second-years in a month. Time to show we can be leaders too!”

Haru silently marvels at Asahi’s positivity, and lets him wax lyrical about how he’d organise a combined practice with the team from Shimogami Gakuin.

Haru doesn’t express it enough, but he’s extremely grateful Asahi is at Hidaka. Haru’s generally okay with being alone, but he doesn't like being lonely. All the way up through high school he’s always had someone, and even though that someone is still very much involved in his life, it’s the first time they’re at different schools and aren’t neighbours. That changes things a lot.

Haru likes being with people on his own terms—he knows society tends to favour those who are eloquent and affable, but he is neither of those things. And he’s not going to change himself just because he’s expected to conform. The things he’s interested to talk about are far fewer than what people actually seem to care for, so he chooses not to say anything at all when everyone is riled up about, say, how cool they want their next haircut to be, or which celebrity was disgraced on the news. Haru doesn’t care a whit for those topics. What Haru’s been gifted so far is friends who _are_ eloquent and affable, who are willing to fill in the gaps he chooses not to fill, who accept his style of communication as him simply being selective, instead of misunderstanding him as being unable to express himself.

Asahi happens to be one of those friends. He isn’t Makoto, but his presence alone makes a world of difference. He’s everything Haru is not—gregarious, talkative, overtly compassionate—and with him around, Haru is free to be his taciturn self. In a sense, with Asahi around on the team, he makes up for Haru. That’s how it’s been so far, with the rest of the first-years. Haru gets to listen, ponder and observe. He’s come to know his teammates better because Asahi is here, and he’s achieved that without having to talk to them much. And it works the other way around, too: they’ve seemed to learn how to interact with Haru by watching Asahi, so while his teammates don’t involve him in locker room discussions about how to impress girls, they’ve discovered he really welcomes cat videos, and would be happy to hold a conversation about Iwatobi-chan. At length.

They pass a notice board with a sinister-looking poster on it that wasn’t there earlier; Haru walks past it, but Asahi stops to read it before crying out that they’re introducing a new stall to the cafeteria when the new school year starts and it’s currently a _secret_ as to what it's offering, damn the student union for being so cryptic yet beguiling. Asahi stands in front of the board for a few more seconds loudly wondering what it could be before he notices Haru is already way ahead; he calls Haru something rude as he starts running to catch up.

“New food!” yells Asahi. “Next semester!” 

Haru doesn't need to match Asahi’s pace, because he could never. And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

“Don’t transfer schools before then,” says Haru drily.

Asahi blinks, then bursts out in laughter. “Did you just _crack a joke_ , Haru?!”

Haru ignores him and saunters on, content.

***

There are some buildings that seem alive, trying to tell stories with their facades, anticipation and secrets welling in every groove and structure. Haru feels this way with Meijo Chuo University, with its grand flight of stairs leading up to the main entrance, its massive pillars shoring up the sloping faces of the roof like how Atlas did the sky.

“What are you looking at?” asks Makoto, tilting his head back, mimicking Haru.

“I like your school’s architecture,” says Haru, before ascending the steps.

“Haven’t you been here before, Haru?” asks Kisumi, following him.

“I have, and I always think the same thing.”

“Meijodai _is_ pretty,” says Asahi, catching up with Haru. “Takadai’s got a lot of trees and flowers and shit, but the buildings aren’t much fun to look at.”

As they make their way across a grassy square, shielding their eyes from the noontime sun, Asahi asks if Haru’s been to the water polo arena; Haru has never, since Makoto never goes there. Makoto says he’s been inside before, once, during open house when he was still a high school student, but after that he’s never had the opportunity to.

“Makoto, if there’s a pool at your school, shouldn't there also be a swim team?” wonders Kisumi out loud.

Makoto shakes his head. “There's a swim circle, but they only have the pool on weekend nights or something like that since the women’s water polo team trains every day.”

“I told my brother-in-law I was coming to watch a practice, and he got kind of excited,” says Asahi. “He says Meijodai has like half the national team or something. But it’s only women, right? There’s no men’s team?”

“That’s right.” Makoto leads them onto a narrower path, and Haru spots the sign for the water polo arena.

“Did Tachibana-senpai’s sister come to Meijodai for water polo?” asks Kisumi.

Makoto smiles, seemingly familiar with the story. “Not really. She only got serious about water polo after coming to Meijodai, so she didn’t come in on a sports recommendation or anything. They’re five-time league champions, though, so to play with them you certainly can’t be a beginner.”

Before long they’re at the building, a squat two-storey affair that sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other Meijodai edifices. Makoto checks his phone for the message Kai sent him and says something about how they need to use the shoe lockers meant for spectators; he doesn’t see any shoe lockers labelled as such and tells them to wait while he goes to look for the correct entrance. 

Haru notices, out of the corner of his eye, how Kisumi seems more alert and fidgety than he was a moment ago.

“Don’t overwhelm your Tachibana-senpai when you finally get to talk,” Asahi teases Kisumi, picking up on the way Kisumi is playing with the hem of his jacket as well.

Kisumi gives Asahi an impassive look. “I’m perfectly calm.”

Cackling, Asahi pats him on the head. “You are so not. You know what? Maybe Makoto can go by ‘Tachibana’ for the day. So if you chicken out halfway through saying ‘Tachibana-senpai’ you can just turn to Makoto and go ‘Tachibana! Fancy seeing you here!’”

Haru dips his chin to hide his smile.

Makoto comes back to lead them to the other side of the building—they’d been at the back entrance—and after they switch their outdoor shoes for slippers, he takes them to a set of tall double doors.

There’s a certain familiarity to the place the moment they step in; the smell of chlorine, the splashing of water, the way voices travel across the pool. The arena is a lot smaller than Haru expected—the pool looks the same size as a regular short-course pool, but there’s not much space around the parameter, and the ceiling seems a lot nearer.

“Does Tachibana-senpai know we’re coming?” asks Kisumi, turning to Makoto, who’s holding the door open for them.

“Kai told him she’s got some friends curious about what she does outside of classes,” answers Makoto, “and that it’d be great if he could sit with them. He knows you’re from Takadai, at least.” Makoto holds up his hands. “Okay, you guys wait here, I have to sign us in.” Makoto trots up to the office up ahead, and waves at someone past the glass windows.

“Senpai knows we’re from Takadai,” says Asahi, grinning cheekily at Kisumi. “Guess getting Makoto to play camouflage won’t work, then.”

Kisumi shoots Asahi a dirty look and drapes himself on Haru. “I don’t want you anymore, Asahi. Haru’s my new best friend.”

Haru peels Kisumi’s arm off his shoulder. “Be your own best friend.”

Makoto comes back to lead them to a flight of stairs, and they head up to the spectator seats. It’s not a large gallery; Haru gauges it to seat only about a hundred spectators. Makoto then spots Tachibana sitting on the lowest row of the middle block, and points him out to the group.

Close-cropped taupe hair; strong eyebrows; grey eyes… Haru finally knows who the guy is. From Asahi’s vociferous ‘ah!’ paired with a raised pointer, Haru can guess that Asahi has recognised him as well.

“It’s the senpai who came to take photos of the swim team right before spring break!” says Asahi; Kisumi drags his arm down, telling him pointing is rude.

“For the PR pamphlet they’re going to give next year’s freshmen,” explains Haru, when Makoto casts him a quizzical look.

“Good, maybe he remembers you, you guys can go talk to him first—” whispers Kisumi, but Asahi has already shoved him forward. He stumbles before stopping a few feet in front of Tachibana, who startles.

“Good afternoon.” Kisumi breathes, his ears full-on crimson as he wiggles his fingers timidly.

Haru has used a number of adjectives on Kisumi; ‘timid’ has never been one of them. 

“Um,” says Tachibana, peering up at Kisumi, “sorry, do I know you?”

Asahi’s hands fly to his mouth, and Haru thinks he can hear Kisumi’s heart shattering from where he’s standing.

“I’m Makoto’s friend!” Kisumi recovers, sporting a smile. His ears are still red.

Makoto steps in (unwittingly gallant, Haru thinks, he’s usually more of a mum) and Tachibana’s shoulders relax. “Ah, Makoto-kun, right?”

Tachibana’s voice is deep, but smooth, like aged honey. The last time Haru met him he’d had to raise his voice to count down for a picture so Haru hadn’t had any deep impressions of it, but now, meeting him again, Haru realises it has a rather unique timbre.

Makoto waves. “Good afternoon. We met briefly a couple of weeks ago.”

“I remember,” says Tachibana, returning Makoto’s smile. “Kai’s been talking about you. It’s you, her, and the fencer.”

Makoto laughs. “Yes. The fencer’s Saotome-kun, and he isn’t here today. These are actually my friends,” Makoto steps aside to gesture, “Shigino Kisumi, Shiina Asahi and Nanase Haruka. They all go to Takadai, and seem to have heard of you.”

“Senpai, you’re from the student union, right? You came to the pool to take pictures the other day,” says Asahi. “We’re on the team!”

Tachibana has stood up, since they’re all being introduced, and he withers as he realises he’s in the company of people attending Hidaka U.

“Oh, right!” Tachibana slaps his forehead. “Kai did mention that. Sorry, I really should be better at faces and names.” Tachibana seems to be less guarded now that he knows he’s got something in common with them. “I’m, er, Tachibana Sei.” He says this bashfully, with a hand bracing the side of his neck, likely because Makoto’s already told him they know who he is.

“So... Can we call you Tachibana-senpai?” asks Asahi.

“Ah, no, we’re in university already, you don't have to tack the ‘senpai’ on,” Tachibana laughs. “Just ‘Tachibana’ would do.”

“Tachibana-san…” says Asahi, before jabbing a finger in Makoto’s direction, grinning. “Tachibana-san.”

“Makoto’s family name is Tachibana too,” Haru explains, when Tachibana blinks at them curiously.

“But they all call me Makoto, so it doesn’t really matter,” Makoto is quick to say, but Tachibana’s already waving a hand.

“Actually, now that you mention it, I think Kai did tell me we share a name. If it’s confusing you can call me whatever you want, though. Even ‘Sei’ is fine.”

At this, Kisumi grips Haru’s elbow; Haru can only guess why.

“Sei-san?” Kisumi hazards hopefully, as Haru writhes his arm away. He is not Kisumi’s stress ball.

Asahi straightens himself and bows a little too comically to be serious. “Sei-san!” he repeats, sealing the deal for Kisumi, and Tachibana—Haru guesses it’s ‘Sei’ now—gives a good-natured laugh before motioning for them to sit down. Haru is about to take a seat beside Makoto, but at the last minute he remembers who they’re here for and smoothly switches places with Kisumi. It would be awkward if Kisumi were beside Sei, but at least this way he’ll have Makoto as a buffer.

Haru was, once upon a time, not completely adept at interacting with Kisumi. If he were being honest, he only began considering Kisumi as a friend after they both started at Hidaka. The feeding-Haru-during-lunch-and-causing-a-misunderstanding episode from junior high aside, Haru’s main beef with Kisumi had had to do with him getting Makoto to join the basketball club in junior high.

Back then, Kisumi always seemed to have a way of getting under Haru’s skin with Makoto. But back then, Haru was also a lot more possessive—it wasn’t just his friends, he had problems dealing with sharing in general. He didn’t actually refuse to share—he knew that it was the right thing to do and he didn’t like being thought of as selfish so he’d still lend a pencil to a classmate if they asked to borrow one, stuff like that—but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Now that he’s an adult he’s gotten over himself, but Haru has a pretty good hunch that his lack of generosity was due to him being afraid that his things or relationships might get damaged if he let them go, even for moment, and it certainly didn't help that he was an only child that grew up with a sweet little boy who gave in to Haru all the time and took care of Haru’s toys better than he did.

It was in the spring of their second year of junior high that Kisumi invited Makoto to the basketball club. Haru hadn’t expected Makoto to say yes; Makoto had talked to him about it before joining, and Haru had responded with the regular ‘do whatever you want’. It wasn’t like he didn’t mean it, he just hadn’t imagined what it’d feel like for Makoto to actually be so involved in something that would leave Haru walking home from school alone, to school alone, doing his homework alone, eating alone. And Kisumi’s face whenever Makoto would drop by their class at the end of school to go to the gym with him—that infuriating, smug way he’d wink at Haru—one time he’d even stuck out his tongue at Haru behind Makoto’s back, Haru will _never_ forget that, not in a million years. Haru always found himself trying to quench his jealousy, telling himself that it was downright ridiculous for a 14-year-old to be this furious with their classmate for spending time with their best friend, as if Haru owned Makoto, as if Makoto was some _thing_ and not some _one_ , as if Kisumi was actually going to replace Haru, with his cheerful disposition and carefree popularity… It was a pretty turbulent time, and Haru used to always associate Kisumi with it.

But now Haru knows that Kisumi is just… Kisumi. He actually likes Kisumi now, loath as he is to admit. Kisumi is one of the most natural people Haru knows, with his tendency to tease and goad being an unfortunate side effect of his authenticity. Even the way Kisumi came out to Haru: it happened sometime before their final exams, during a most casual three-way conversation they were having in the cafeteria with Asahi. Asahi was reminiscing about something, Haru can't remember what, and Kisumi then sang:

“I was so into Rin in elementary school it was embarrassing, but then in junior high I set eyes on this guy and Rin was _completely_ forgotten.”

Kisumi was looking straight at Haru, and Asahi had frozen stock still—Haru later found out that Asahi had known for years, he was just horrified for Kisumi because he didn’t know how Haru would react—but Haru knew he was being tested. Haru stared back at him and said:

“Good taste.”

Kisumi simply cracked a smile and blew Haru a kiss, which he pretended to dodge. And that was that.

“Oh, that’s Kai,” says Makoto suddenly, and Haru casts his gaze across the pool to where one of the players in the pool is waving while treading water. Haru can’t really make out her features; from this distance and with them donning swim caps and goggles, all the players look the same.

“They just started in the pool. I think they’re going to do conditioning now,” says Sei. “This might be fun for you guys. Tons of swimming.”

Haru watches as the players gather at one end of the pool to listen to their coach giving them instructions. Some of them are clinging on to the edge, but most of them are treading water while using their arms to scull. Haru has never really thought about it up till now, but he realises that for them to have their chests this high above the surface, they must be treading water with their legs moving in opposite directions.

“You guys,” says Asahi, squinting at the pool, “is it just me, or does this pool not have a shallow end?”

Sei’s chuckle is soft but throaty. It reminds Haru of Sousuke’s, actually. “The entire pool is two metres deep, so you’re absolutely right.”

“So… It’s against the rules to touch the bottom of the pool?” asks Kisumi.

“Well, if you touch it the ball goes to the other team,” says Sei. “But if you’re playing in a pool with a shallow end, the goalkeeper on that end will be able to touch the ground. That’s not prohibited.”

Makoto hums. “How do you keep it fair, then? If the goalie can use the ground as a springboard?” 

“How _do_ you keep it fair?” asks Sei, a smile in his tone as he looks at the four of them.

Haru considers this. If it were soccer, and the field was raised but the goalpost—and the goalkeeper—stayed the same height, the distance between the ground and the top of the goalpost would be fairly unnatural, since it would be too easy for the goalie to block out the ball. This means—

“You raise the goal,” says Haru.

“Exactly.” Sei beams at him, and Kisumi looks at Haru with so much envy he has to look away.

“Sei-san, I have another question, but it’s not related to water polo.” Kisumi crosses his legs, then leans forward to peer at Sei past Makoto’s shoulder. “If that’s your _elder_ sister and she’s in Makoto’s class,” Kisumi points in the direction of the pool, “how is it you’re a year older than us?”

An odd look flits across Makoto’s countenance; he then turns to look at Sei. Haru picks up on all this and senses that Kisumi has asked a potentially sensitive question.

Sei seems unfazed, however. “We’re twins, actually,” says Sei.

“That’s… more confusing.” Asahi scratches his temple.

Sei laughs. “We started university at the same time, but at the end of our first semester, my dad, who owns a couple of of sports clubs in Saitama, ran into some financial problems. Big new gyms opening up everywhere, taking away our business. Things got pretty dire and he said he had to close up some of our businesses and sell our house in order to survive. We have a younger brother and he attends a private high school with a really strong sports programme, so we really didn’t want him to have to quit—Kai and I did the math and decided we could help reduce the financial burden by paying our own tuition. This way, our parents only had to worry about our brother. Kai chose to take a whole year off to work full-time and save up for the rest of her university education, while I chose to go to school and work at the same time. That’s how I’ve ended up a year ahead of her at school.”

It’s the first time they’re actually sitting down to get to know this upperclassman, and it surprises Haru how personal he’s willing to get with them. It also gets Haru thinking about the cost of having to send three kids to private school at one go without any scholarships, and shudders at the thought.

“Is your dad’s business okay now? Because I’m totally willing to go to Saitama to work out,” says Kisumi.

“We had to close one branch, but yup, we’re okay now.” Sei gives Kisumi a grateful smile. “You’re welcome to join, of course. Oh, and the main branch has a short-course indoor pool. You guys are swimmers, right? If you ever need a facility, you should let me know. We can give you a discount.”

“Ah, I’m not a swimmer, but they are,” Kisumi thrusts his thumbs out to his right, indicating Haru and Asahi.

Asahi reaches across Haru to turn Kisumi’s wrist so he’s pointing at Makoto too. “Don’t forget this dude, he’s got a pretty wicked backstroke.”

It’s such an Asahi thing to do. Haru can’t help but smile.

Sei asks them how all met, and the conversation moves to their childhood in Iwatobi, how they met in junior high, and how they got reunited in Tokyo. Sei listens to them, asking all the right questions, though he has to ask them to repeat their names a few times. (He really isn’t very good with names.) It’s not until they’re talking about their swim times and Haru and Asahi’s hopes to compete globally that Makoto reveals he knows Sei used to play water polo for the All-Japan Youth, and Sei shyly tries to dismiss it but Kisumi and Asahi start gushing over how cool that is.

“No, really—I actually think that because water polo is sort of still trying to find recognition as a major sport, the talent pool is far smaller than, say, competitive swimming. While that has its challenges, it also means that when you reach a certain skill level, you’re bound to be pushed up to compete internationally, because that’s all Japan’s got. I mean, I played in my first international competition was when I was fifteen, and I hardly knew what I was doing.”

“I still think you’re being modest,” says Kisumi.

“It’s not that I’m modest, it’s just that… It’s something I’ve left behind, so I get to look at it objectively,” says Sei, and for a moment they fall into a horrific silence, thinking that they’ve gone and brought up something they shouldn’t, but Sei assures them that he has no regrets.

“I felt really satisfied with where I was. I mean, I got a head start—I told you that we own a pool, right? When we were just babies our parents would put us in there, after the clients went home, and teach us how to swim. Then, when we were old enough, they started playing water polo with us. Well, we thought they were playing with us, but they were actually coaching us. Kai would skive off, though, and our brother preferred races, but I was really into the game. It was a given that I would be the one to pursue it, since I was so good at it.” Sei stops to laugh, as if to dispel his embarrassment. “But when I finished high school I was told by my coach that I was only at the beginning of my career, and I realised if I continued playing water polo, I would have to give up everything else. I didn’t want that, so I quit.”

Makoto grips the edge of the bench, looking serious. “May I ask if… it’s because you thought you finished fulfilling your dream?”

“My dream?” asks Sei, blinking. “I don’t think I thought of it as a dream at that point; I just liked it a lot, so I gave it all I got. I didn’t really care where I got to, I just… did it.”

Haru closes his eyes to better feel the familiarity of such a sentiment. He can absolutely relate. 

“What was your dream then, back then?” asks Kisumi.

Sei takes a second to think about this. “To experience everything I loved to the fullest, I guess. Call it gluttony, but I really wanted a share of every pie. Going to university, learning accountancy, playing guitar—I didn’t want to miss out on anything. So I figured if I wanted to do everything, I had to decide what I had already done to the fullest, and move on.”

“Does that mean you quit water polo because you stopped loving it?” asks Asahi.

“Oh, no. I’ve never stopped loving it,” Sei’s reply comes instantly. “In fact I think I love it even more, now that I don’t compete. I get to watch it, I get to watch people get better at it, I get to enjoy it as an incredibly well-informed spectator. Maybe someday I’ll become a coach. Or an umpire. Or maybe not, and I’ll just be an accountant. Or a musician. I don’t know.” Sei grins. “Whatever it is, I feel free now.”

Haru has had to redefine his idea of being ‘free’ ever since he decided to aim for the world’s stage, and when he hears Sei use the word, he can’t help but think about what it means. As much as there are people who give up competitive swimming to remain connected with it—Makoto and Coach Azuma come to mind—there have to be people out there who have left it behind but still love it. People like Nagisa. Athletes who have retired from the sport. People who worked towards the world standard, but never got good enough. People like Sousuke, who thought they were done with it, but decided to come back.

Haru carefully archives his thoughts, quietly admiring Sei’s ability to know what to hang on to, and what to cut off.

The conversation heads towards somewhere else, and Haru leaves Kisumi and Makoto to chat with Sei as he focuses on what the players are doing in the pool; he realises that he might actually enjoy watching the practices more so than he would an actual water polo match. What they’re doing seems familiar—sprints from end to end, short races, clearing a base time. The major difference is that they swim with their heads slightly higher in the water. Haru wonders if he’d benefit from a modified version of this training.

“I think I could actually learn something from watching this,” murmurs Asahi. “It’s quite interesting, don’t you think?”

Haru nods. “I didn’t think they wore goggles too.”

“Is that all you got from this?” Asahi gives him an incredulous look. Haru is slightly disappointed Asahi can’t tell he’s joking, but then he hears Makoto’s laugh coming from right beside him, and turns. Haru, having been staring at the pool, hadn’t realised Makoto and Kisumi traded places; he levels his vision with Makoto’s, then glances at Kisumi—who’s deep in conversation with Sei—then goes back to Makoto again. Makoto gives a small shrug, then smiles.

Haru doesn’t think Makoto knows Kisumi is into men, mainly because he’s noticed how Asahi never teases Kisumi about guys in front of Makoto. He wonders how Makoto would take it if he found out. Haru doesn’t think Makoto would forsake anyone for being gay, but his family is kind of traditional and it’s not something he and Haru have talked about, so Haru can’t say he’s sure. But it’s _Makoto_. Haru can't expect the worst from him.

There’s a whistle, signalling a break. Haru, Asahi and Makoto are engaged in a discussion about how exactly the water polo players mixed their strokes when a voice goes:

“Yo, Tachibana—thanks for coming!”

“Oh—” Makoto gets to his feet in response, the same time Sei goes:

“Hey, Tachibana.” Sei puts out a hand and the girl in the robe grins before slapping him a low-five.

Haru supposes this is Kai.

“Ah,” Kai wears an open-mouthed grin as she turns to Makoto, who’s gotten up from his seat to approach her, “I wasn’t referring to you. Why would I call you ‘Tachibana’?”

“Why would you call your _brother_ ‘Tachibana’?” Makoto retorts, and Haru can’t help but pick up on their familiarity. It’s… new.

“You call _each other_ ‘Tachibana’,” Asahi points out.

Sei laughs. “It’s a nickname. When did it start? Third grade?” He prods Kai’s foot with his own.

Kai pulls her swim cap off her head, drops it on Sei’s thigh, then unties her wet hair. “Yeah. Second or third, I think. Mama got really cross with us for what, I don’t recall—”

“We taught Zen a really bad word,” Sei reminds Kai, and Haru guesses Zen must be their brother.

“Oh yeah!” Kai laughs as she combs through her hair, putting it back in a bun. “I’d never seen Mama so angry, and in the heat of the moment she yelled at me: ‘You’re being irresponsible, Sei’—”

“—and then we could see she realised her mistake,” Sei continues, "but she was livid and probably wasn't thinking straight so when she tried to correct herself she turned to me and went: 'Kai!’”

“So while she was spluttering,” Kai goes on, “I told her: ‘It’s okay Mama, you can call us both ‘Tachibana’, and without missing a beat Sei quipped—”

“—‘Until you remember our names.’” Sei cracks up. “We were _terrible_ children.”

“For the entire time we were grounded we made sure she was in earshot when we called each other ‘Tachibana’,” says Kai, “but after a while it became more of a habit than a way to get on our mum’s nerves, so it stuck.”

“You were terrible children,” Kisumi echoes, making all of them laugh. 

Haru thinks of Ran and Ren, and comparing them to this set of Tachibana twins, they’ve never looked so much like angels. He exchanges looks with Makoto, and is convinced he's thinking the same thing.

“By the way—hi. I’m Kai.” Kai grins at the group. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes fall on Haru. “You’re Haru,” she says out loud, before pressing the back of her fingers against her lips as she realises her faux pas. “Sorry—uh, Makoto talks about you a lot, I don’t actually remember your full name—”

“Nanase Haruka,” says Haru, surprised that Makoto talks about him enough for Kai to know who he is without prior introduction, “but… Haru is fine.”

Kai’s scrunches her features together in unbridled glee, and Haru doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who hasn’t seen him swim this happy to make his acquaintance. “Cool! Call me Kai.” 

Kai holds out her hand—Haru is caught off guard by the gesture, and for a moment all he sees is sunshine and technicolour and soaring kites in a painted sky.

Haru takes her hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Kai.”

Kai is introduced to the others, and Haru finds himself studying her. Kai is tall, only a slight inch shorter than Makoto, with arms that Gou would be certain to appreciate. Her eyes, like Sei’s, are a gunmetal grey, expressive and wide-set and crinkling when she smiles. Her voice has a mellowness to it, distinct from her laughter, which is high and merry. As she throws her head back and laughs at Asahi’s joke about Kisumi’s name, it’s very plain to Haru why Makoto likes her.

Kai turns to the group and beams at them. “So—any of you swimmers inspired to come join the wonderful world of water polo?”

Kisumi’s arm shoots into the air. “I’m not a swimmer, but I’m interested!”

“Fantastic.” Kai gives him an approving look. “Kisumi gets a gold star. How about the rest of you?”

“Ask me again when I retire,” says Asahi, grinning.

“I only swim free,” says Haru solemnly, and all his friends groan.

“He’s been saying that since he was a kid,” explains Makoto. “But you’ve started to diversify, haven’t you, Haru? You swam in the individual medley last year.”

Haru crooks a finger and places it on his chin, thinking. “The water still feels best when I swim free.”

“What a way to put it,” marvels Kai, laughing. “Well, I think it’s important for athletes to have convictions. I can relate!”

“Please, your convictions revolve mainly around food,” says Sei with a snort.

“What’s wrong with that? You are what you eat, and pickles are poison,” Kai declares, before turning around to look at the clock on the other side of the pool. “Yikes, I gotta be down there in a minute. What time are you guys hanging out until?”

“We’re leaving around three,” says Makoto. “But we’ll be grabbing coffee at Asahi’s sister’s cafe before we split up.”

“Nice. Have fun. Maybe invite my brother? He’s free today.” Kai winks.

Sei’s expression turns wide-eyed, while Kisumi’s turns hopeful.

Sei lowers his eyelids at his sister, and his voice comes out gruff. “Tachibana, you don’t just invite me to something you’re not even—”

“I’d like to know more about how water polo players train for sprints,” Haru speaks up, and five pairs of eyes are suddenly fixed on him, “if Sei-san doesn’t mind.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“That’s a great idea,” gushes Kisumi, shooting Haru a grateful look, but Haru didn’t only do it for Kisumi—he’s now genuinely interested in finding out how other non-competitive swimmers practise. He’s never considered it before today, but are other aquatic sports out there that might do him good to study. Triathletes who swim in open water, finswimming, even diving… There’s a lot to explore.

Makoto goes to sit beside Sei and invites him to join them; Haru knows when Makoto smiles like that, it’s hard for anyone to say no.

Sei hesitates for a moment, then relaxes into a smile. “Okay.”

“All right, Tachibana—I’ll leave Makoto and the guys with you; can’t wait to hear how you charmed them over to water polo,” says Kai, making for the stairs.

“Wait—are you doing ball drills next?” asks Sei, scrambling after her.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re still too reliant on your arms. I know they’re long, but it doesn’t mean you get lazy with your core—”

“Okay, okay. Point taken. I’ll see you at home, you nerd.” A whistle blows, and Kai hurriedly waves them goodbye before disappearing down the stairs.

As Sei comes back to the bench, Asahi remarks:

“I actually thought the other players were kind of short, but when your sister came up here I realised she’s really tall.”

“She is,” says Sei, sounding like a proud parent. “She hit one-eighty-one when she was fourteen and was taller than me for years, I couldn’t stand it.” Sei laughs. "I’m taller than her now, but not by much.” Sei looks at them. “You’re all really tall too—you sure you don’t want to come over to water polo? Height’s a huge advantage!”

“It’s fine, we don’t want Tachibana-senpai to yell at us for not using our cores,” says Kisumi with a straight face, cracking Sei up.

Sei seems a lot more at ease with them now, especially after Kai came by to talk to them. Thinking about why they’re here amuses Haru—what started out as Kisumi rallying the troops to go meet his crush and Haru attempting to satiate his curiosity about Kai has ended up yielding some nice surprises: the twins are a delight and water polo training is a lot closer to competitive swimming than Haru thought. Who would’ve known? 

“Kisumi seems to be having fun,” says Makoto, coming to sit beside Haru.

They watch as Kisumi quizzes Sei about the fouls in water polo, falling into an in-depth discussion about ball-handling as they watch the players in the pool. Asahi has wandered a few feet off, angling himself against the parapet to have a closer look at the way the team is practising their passes in the water. Haru can see him mutter ‘whoa, cool’ as they catch the ball using only one hand.

“I’m having fun too,” says Haru, and Makoto brightens.

“Really?”

Haru nods. “I wasn’t expecting to, but I am.”

Makoto looks down at his hands, clasped and resting between his thighs. “I’m glad you got to meet Kai.”

Haru has an idea of why Makoto is avoiding his eyes—their last conversation about Kai involved Haru expressing how he doesn’t care who Makoto befriends or what kind of feelings Makoto has towards Kai. Haru knows it’s the closest they’ve come to the topic of how their relationship would change if either of them found a romantic partner, and he doesn’t know which is more frustrating: the fact that they never had to talk about something like that when Kisumi got all chummy with Makoto in junior high (just because Kisumi is a guy?), or the more complicated feeling of how Haru doesn’t think Makoto and Kai would be romantically involved, but still feels threatened by their relationship. This web of emotions is something Haru can’t disentangle by himself, but he can’t bear to burden Makoto with all his questions. He does, however, decide to tell Makoto one truth.

“She reminds me of you.”

Makoto jerks his head up, his gaze wide and imploring.

“It’s not her personality—I don’t know her well enough to tell, and if we’re talking about the way she interacts with people she’s more like him,” Haru nods towards Asahi, “but she reminds me of you.”

“Is that so?” is all Makoto says, but his eyes are bright. 

“Yes.” Haru travels his sight over to the pool. _Starburst hues. Sunlit skies. An outstretched hand._ Haru allows himself a slight smile. “When I met her, I thought she’s someone I could see myself being friends with.”

“Haru…” Makoto breaks into a smile, pink dusting his cheeks.

 _Makoto, you sap_ , Haru thinks, but he savours the moment anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those were two REALLY long chapters, whew. I love Asahi and Kisumi a lot, both as a ship and as bros (in this story they'll be bros because I love that dynamic as well!). I also adore my OCs. Thanks for letting me be indulgent!
> 
> Calling someone by their first name is a pretty big deal in Japanese culture - remember the scene in High Speed where Kisumi called Haru 'Haru'? - so if anyone is wondering why Kisumi got excited about getting to call his crush by his first name (so much so that he gripped Haru's elbow lol), that's why.
> 
> Next update in two days :D It'll only be a single chapter, but an important one.


	8. Miles Away

One thing Makoto’s always managed to keep up with no matter how busy he gets is cleaning his room. It started when Ran and Ran were born; Makoto’s parents told him they hoped he would be a good big brother, and Makoto himself decided that if he wanted to be a role model, he had to start from the most basic of tasks, like keeping his room spick and span. Makoto found that he truly enjoyed a tidy room; when things got disorganised he found himself being unable to concentrate, and so he strove to make tidying up a habit.

It’s becoming very difficult now, however, because between learning on the job with Nao, teaching classes at the community pool and managing his coursework, Makoto can hardly find time to tidy his apartment. It’s only when he stumbles over his backpack one morning and steps on an empty food container that slipped off the top of his full rubbish bin that he realises how bad it’s become—for his standards, his apartment is an utter mess.

Still, Makoto doesn’t have time to deal with it right now. The new school year has begun and already they’ve been assigned a ton of readings. Makoto doesn’t have a lot of time to study after school, so he tries to go to the library as early as possible to make up for it, catching up on the course material before classes. 

It is on this morning that Makoto sets off for Meiji Chuo feeling lethargic and fighting the dull throbbing in the space between his eyes, but he also knows it could be the side effects of the hay fever medication he’s on. Spring is going to be over in two months, he just needs to hang on until then. And he can’t be sick _today_ , he’s got an important class to attend before lunch.

Makoto receives a text from Saotome right before getting off the train; Saotome’s already at the library, and has saved Makoto a seat. Makoto texts back, telling him he’ll be there soon.

“Hey. You’ve been wearing a mask every day this week, you okay?” asks Saotome when they meet. Makoto slides into the seat beside him.

“Allergies,” says Makoto. “It’ll pass as the day goes on.”

“You sure? Don’t force yourself.”

“I’m fine. We have that big briefing in Sports Medicine today; if I really feel unwell I’ll leave after that class.”

Throughout the hour studying at the library Makoto manages to convince himself that he feels fine, that his cheeks aren’t as sore as he thinks they are, that his headache isn’t getting worse, that he’s actually still breathing through both his nostrils and not just one. During the first lecture of the day, however, he feels lousy enough to remove his glasses, lean back in his seat and cradle his head in his hands.

“Makoto, you all right?” he hears Kai ask from behind him. She came a few minutes late, and got a seat in the tier behind him and Saotome.

Makoto lifts a hand to show he’s okay, before picking up his pen again. Saotome throws a worried look his way; Makoto tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

Immediately after the class, Makoto takes a second to hide his face in the crook of his elbow, his head an anvil; he takes several deep breaths to will the pain away, but it only pulsates stronger behind his eyeballs.

“Tachibana,” comes Saotome’s voice. There’s a hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “I think you should go home and rest.”

Makoto wants to say something, but it’s like the weight of his head has caused his throat to close up.

“Is he okay?” Kai sounds close. “He kept massaging his head during the lecture.”

“Dunno. But he’s in an obscene amount of pain, as you can see.” Makoto is shaken on the shoulder. “Tachibana?” While knows Saotome is being perfectly gentle, the motion is practically scrambling his brains. Makoto lets out a whine, and Saotome’s hand leaves his shoulder. “He was already looking poorly in the morning, actually.”

“Yeah. I don’t think he can go home by himself.” A cool hand finds its way to Makoto’s neck. “Shit, Sacchon—he’s burning up. I think we should take him to the health centre instead.”

Makoto somehow musters the strength to turn his head. “Saotome-kun.” Saotome hunches to get closer to Makoto. “Sports Medicine…”

“What’s he saying?” asks Kai. “Is he delirious?”

“No, no. We have Sports Med after this and today the lecturer’s going to brief us on the report we have to submit at the end of the semester. Big deal; he obviously doesn’t want to miss it.”

“All right—you go for that class, make sure you take everything down so you can brief Makoto when he’s better, and I’ll take him to the health centre.”

“It’s Thursday; the health centre isn’t open today.”

“Shit. You’re right. We’ll have to leave school, then.”

Makoto reaches for his friends with a limp hand that quickly falls back onto the table.

“Nice try, Makoto.” There’s some shuffling and the sound of a zip being pulled; Kai must be packing up his things. He feels his notebook being tugged from under his cheek, and with a herculean effort he raises his head as far as it would go to let Kai yank the notebook away. 

“Don’t you have class after this?” asks Saotome.

“Yeah, but it’s Theory of Growth and Ageing. Nothing I can’t catch up with since most of the material’s in the textbook, and I’ve got friends in second-year who’ll lend me their old notes if I ask.”

“Okay. You sure you’ll be fine alone? You might have to physically support him at some point.”

There’s a prolonged silence.

“Right. I’m being ridiculous," says Saotome, "I’ve seen you tread water while hugging weight plates.”

“Thank you. Makoto, do you have your health insurance card on you?” Makoto croaks a yes. Kai crouches so her face is level with his. “It’s your head that’s hurting, right? Anywhere else?”

“No,” whispers Makoto.

Kai nods. “Come on, let’s go. Sacchon, give me a hand.”

With his friends’ help, Makoto stands; he puts one sluggish foot in front of another and together they somehow make the trek to the foyer. Saotome splits up with them to go to class, asking Kai to update him on Makoto when she can. Makoto finds a chair and closes his eyes for a moment, leaving Kai to scroll through her phone: she’s looking for a clinic. 

A few moments later, Kai tells him they’re leaving, picks up his backpack and shrugs it on before carrying her own backpack on her front. She takes Makoto’s arm and helps him to his feet.

“We have to get to the bus stop outside the main entrance,” says Kai apologetically, and Makoto grits his teeth, giving a small nod.

They make it out of the main building and choose to take the ramp instead of the stairs; Makoto hangs onto the railing, his head pounding with every step. It’s an eternity before he makes it to the bottom, and he’s exhausted by the time they get there. Kai silently slings his arm across her shoulders, supports him by the waist, and guides him to the bus stop. They have to wait for the bus, and Kai asks for permission to open Makoto’s bag to retrieve his travel pass. He tells her where it is, and she gets it out.

The bus ride could’ve been five minutes, it could’ve been 30, but Makoto can’t be sure because he somehow managed to doze off amidst the haze of pain. He wakes up when Kai grips his arm again, and after a bit of groggy balancing on the steps of the bus, Makoto disembarks. He’s trudging into an ENT clinic before he knows it, and when Kai sets him down into a chair he’s suddenly struck with a wave of pain so strong he has to tuck his head between his knees.

“Tachibana Makoto-san,” calls a nurse after a long wait, and Makoto adjusts his mask as he makes his way to the consultation room.

Makoto finally feels like he’ll survive this ordeal when he’s told he has a nasty sinus infection and they’re going to get all the gunk out of his face. He asks the doctor: “What gunk?” and the doctor says his nasal passages are all clogged up, does he not realise, and Makoto says he assumed it was his hay fever. The doctor simply gives a cordial laugh and tells Makoto his allergies might have been what triggered everything.

The doctor then proceeds to stick a pump up his nose and for the next five minutes, Makoto is convinced his head is going to implode.

Miraculously, his head feels lighter after the doctor is done draining his sinuses, though everything is still tender and sore. He’s given a tube to breathe some sort of medicated mist into his respiratory tract, and when the nurse tells him he can go, he puts his mask back on, makes his way out into the waiting room and locates Kai, who’s thumbing through a magazine.

“Hello, my zombie friend,” says Kai, putting her magazine down. “How was hell?”

Makoto laughs in spite of himself. “It’s a sinus infection, likely triggered by my allergies. They put a pump up my nose and sucked all the goop out.”

Kai’s lip curls in disgust. “I don’t know if I’m privileged or cursed to be considered this familiar with you.”

“Definitely privileged.”

Kai laughs. “Is your head better now?”

“The pain isn’t gone, but it’s less intense—I don’t feel like it’s throbbing anymore. And my fever hasn’t broken.” Makoto reaches for his phone. “Where are we, by the way? I need to figure out how to get home.”

“We’re near Hikarigaoka Park.” Kai studies him. “Let me go with you? I’m actually really worried you’ll fall on the train tracks or something.”

“I won’t, Kai.”

“Uh, are you aware you couldn’t get on and off that bus without me practically carrying you?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. You tried not to slip, I’ll give you that, but you were like—” Kai sways in a sudden, swooping motion, “—so no. I’m making sure you get home safe.”

Makoto shakes his head, then winces as it protests the motion by sending a jolt of pain straight past his eyeballs. “You’re already missing classes.”

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Kai grins. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna miss practice.”

“Your priorities, Kai—”

“—are excellent, am I right?”

They collect Makoto’s prescription and go to the pharmacy next door to pick up the drugs. The pharmacy has a water dispenser, so Makoto takes a dose of antibiotics right there, and he has to admit Kai is right—he’s still not feeling well enough to walk straight. He can’t move at his usual pace because that sends a hammer slamming into his skull with every step, so he has to go at the excruciating speed of a sloth’s crawl.

Kai had the foresight to pick a clinic that was close to a train station on Makoto’s usual line, and after they board the train and find seats, Makoto lets out a huge sigh and rests his head against the window.

“Maybe we should call Haru.”

Makoto cracks open his eyes. “Call Haru?”

Kai nods. “You took care of him when he was sick. He’d probably want to know, right?”

Makoto closes his eyes again, letting his mouth slip into a smile that’s solely meant to reassure Kai, then remembers she can’t see it under his mask. “I don’t think it’s necessary. Haru’s busy.”

It’s true—Haru has been preparing for his next tournament since the last week of spring break, and has been having combined trainings with other universities every weekend since then. Makoto doesn’t want to bother him with something as trivial as a sinus infection.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” Kai looks concerned.

“No,” says Makoto, “he’s just not been replying my messages, that’s all.”

“Oh. Yeah. Not the first time, right?”

“Right.”

The only times Makoto’s gotten to see Haru since the school year started were on his way back from his part-time job, and even those meetings haven’t been frequent because Makoto has had to scale back on his shifts at the pool. The coursework for second year is a lot more demanding than he expected, and Makoto actually wants to do well, not just scrape by. So it’s not just Haru—Haru hasn’t been replying Makoto’s messages, true, but it’s also because Makoto hasn’t sent him any in the last week.

Kai ignores Makoto’s attempts to assure her that he can walk home from the station himself, and she mutters a ‘by yourself, you said’ when Makoto flounders on the stairs up to his apartment. He’s just so, so tired.

“Were you feeling this bad in the morning?” asks Kai, when they get to the top of the stairs.

“Not really. I did feel that something was off, though.”

“And you still went to school?”

“Yeah. I needed to be there for the Sports Medicine class.”

“And look how that’s turned out.” Kai sighs. “What is you need is a break, my dude. You’re working too hard.”

They get into the apartment, and Makoto removes his mask. He fusses a little over the state of his room—his bed isn’t made and there are dirty dishes in the sink—but Kai asks him if he’s kidding, because the way he was going on about his room on the train made her ready herself for a pig sty, but it’s as clean as a toilet in a fancy department store. Makoto assumes this is a compliment.

Makoto is one of those people who can’t stand touching their bed before they shower, so he gestures to his desk chair. Kai brings him over, and lets out a grunt of relief after she unloads him on the chair. She straightens with a sigh, and peels both their bags off her body.

Makoto tugs on Kai’s sleeve. “Thanks, Kai. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

“Oh, come on. I’d have done the same for anyone else.” Kai is surveying Makoto, a slight frown on her face. “How upset will you be if I ask Haru to come over tonight?”

The question catches Makoto by surprise. “Wha - Huh?”

“Have you seen your perfectly sorry self?”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not. You know, my brother has his number. I don’t have to ask you.” Kai doesn’t seem to be listening to Makoto noises of protest, and she tugs at her lower lip, thinking. “And even if Haru’s not looking at his phone, Tachibana’s right there at Takadai. I could just get him to pop over to the pool—”

“That’s not - It’s not a good—” Makoto stops mid-sentence to brace his forehead, hissing through the pain.

“All right, sorry. Didn’t mean to stress you. I’ll shut up if you really think it’s okay not to tell Haru.”

Makoto doesn’t understand Kai’s insistence on telling Haru, and he looks up at her. “Don’t call Haru.”

Kai presses her lips together, chin wrinkling as she frowns. “I don’t know if you’re actually aware of this, but nobody made you big brother of the universe—you don’t have to be the one who takes care of other people all the time. You’re allowed to get babied by someone when it’s your turn to get babied.”

“It’s not that,” says Makoto feebly. He doesn’t think that’s the issue here.

Kai steps away for a minute to retrieve a mug from the strainer by the sink, and fills it with water before bringing it over to the desk. Makoto takes the proffered mug and has a long drink so he doesn’t have to say anything to Kai.

“I won’t call Haru, but can you tell me why you’re so adamant about not letting him know?” Kai’s voice has lost its edge.

Makoto has an answer ready. “I told you. Haru’s busy.”

“So? He’s your best friend.”

“I don’t want to worry him.”

Kai’s expression softens. “Since when?”

“Hm?”

“Since when have you and Haru been the kind of friends who care about worrying each other? Haven’t you been worrying each other your whole lives?”

Makoto gapes. He doesn’t know. He chooses to take another long draught of water so he can hide his face.

“Okay dude—” Kai rakes a hand through her hair, muttering about how this is a conversation she knew they would have to have eventually, “—the day I met you I just had this vibe from you, and correct me if I’m wrong but I sensed that you’re not like all - the - straights.” Kai stammers the last bit out. “If I’ve misunderstood, I’m sorry. I know how it’s like to have people assume things about you when they can’t possibly know the truth. But if you need someone to talk to who isn’t going to judge who you choose to love, I’m definitely an option. Can’t promise I’m the best option, but I’m still an option.”

Makoto puts a hand to his neck. He thinks he might be having a fever dream. Is Kai trying to say he’s—

“It’s not like that with Haru,” says Makoto slowly, knowing that’s where Kai’s line of thought has gone. “I don’t love him that way.”

Kai winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“But I still love him in a way I don’t love anyone else.” It’s the first time Makoto is saying this out loud, and maybe it’s the fever and the drugs talking, but getting it out actually feels good. There’s no denying that his relationship with Haru is one-of-a-kind, no matter how normal it is for them. “If that’s the case, does that make me not straight?” asks Makoto, his line of vision floating upward. He sincerely has no clue.

“You don’t have to decide.” Kai shifts on her feet, blushing. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re you.”

Makoto stills; Haru told him something similar years ago. That was when he’d thought he had to change because it seemed like the age-appropriate thing to do, and he was racing against time to fit himself into a mould that didn’t need to be filled out that quickly. Now it seems as if he’s filled out the mould, but it can’t really keep him in anymore because he’s changing even though he isn’t trying to. Thinking about it like that is enough to give Makoto’s headache a headache.

“I need to take a shower,” says Makoto at last, sighing as he gets out of his chair.

Kai blinks. “Okay—should I leave?”

“Hm?” Makoto puts a hand on the back of his chair to steady himself. “Do you have to leave…?

“If you’re upset, then yes.”

“I’m not upset.” Makoto pauses. “I’m thinking.”

“Oh.”

“It’d be nice if you could… think with me?”

“Okay.” Kai slumps against Makoto’s desk, her relief palpable. “Uh, do you have rice? I’ll make you some gruel. For later, if you don’t want to have any now.”

“Thanks.” Makoto trudges to his closet to collect a change of clothes. “It’s in the cupboard under the sink.”

In the shower, Makoto first thinks about Kai.

It’s odd, because Makoto doesn’t know for sure how interacting with a 20-year-old Ran would be like, but being with Kai often makes him feel like he’s catching a glimpse of it. This awareness has become more pronounced ever since he saw how Kai behaves with her brother—it caught him off guard when he was struck by how _familiar_ it all felt. Adding to that is the coincidence of Kai sharing his family name, which makes it feel like she’s an actual cousin.

Of course, at the end of the day, Kai isn’t actually related to him. This means there has to be something in this friendship with Kai that Makoto has found which isn’t present in his other relationships with women, and Makoto figures it has to be how open, unpretentious and trusting Kai is. There’s always been a certain pressure when it comes to interacting with women: it’s mainly a fear of misunderstood intentions, borne from years of conditioning of how different women are from men. Through Kai, Makoto is starting to think that maybe opposite-sex interactions aren’t that all different from same-sex ones, and perhaps most of what he’s believed about gender may not be considered accurate. That said, Kai may not be part of the norm: for every girl like Kai there could be a dozen more who will immediately think he’s trying to hit on them if he so much as tries to touch their hand; but Kai has shown him men and women can be close without involving romance in any way. It might be an oversimplification, but Makoto thinks if more men are a lot less creepy about showing interest in the opposite sex, more women can be less worried about whether or not they can trust them, and the world could be a far friendlier place.

It’s a weird time and place to be thinking about his interactions with women, what with him being naked and all, but the fact that he’s even having this thought makes him realise he’s never really fantasised about being with any woman while naked. He thought it came from believing it was immoral and disrespectful, but now he’s starting to think it’s something else, since he’s never actually had the urge to.

Makoto’s always thought he likely had the default setting everyone was telling him about—liking women—except it was lying dormant, like it did with all late bloomers. His dad was always insisting that he never had any interest in women until he met his mum, after all. Makoto assumed it was a trait that ran in the family.

Another reason why he simply assumed he would one day awaken to his attraction to the opposite sex was because he wasn’t attracted to boys. That was one of the things he knew early on because he knew what people were saying about him and Haru in school, he knew what their closeness looked like, and he felt like he had to go over the feelings he had for Haru again and again to make sure he wasn’t actually denying anything. And he really wasn’t. He wasn’t interested in falling in love with Haru. He was simply content to love him.

He still does. That hasn’t changed.

So what is the issue here? There has to be something else—something more complicated than liking Haru another way, impossible as it seems.

All these aren’t things Makoto wants to ruminate over while being so sick, but he finds himself jumping from thought to thought anyway, unable to control himself: combined with how he feels about women, and his lack of attraction to them—does that mean Makoto qualifies as ‘not straight’? But Makoto still can’t consider himself attracted to men. If he’s not inherently attracted to either men or women, where does that put him?

Makoto steps out of the shower, feeling a lot more clear-headed, though left with more questions than he’d started with.

Kai is stirring the gruel in a saucepan when Makoto comes out of the bathroom, and she asks if he’s feeling better. Makoto says yes, and gets a fever gel patch from the fridge. He gives it to Kai, then pushes up his fringe; Kai helps him stick it on his forehead.

Makoto goes to seat himself on the bed. “Kai.”

“Hm?”

“I haven’t been texting Haru the past week.”

Kai stops stirring for a moment. “Because he’s not replying?” She swivels her head to show she’s listening.

“That, and I got busy.” Makoto lies down, feet still on the floor, then grabs his pillow and hugs it. “I thought it’d be the best chance for me to prove to myself I’ll be okay without Haru.”

Kai goes back to stirring, and Makoto waits for her response, but it never comes.

Two years ago, Makoto made the decision to compete with Haru in the 200-metre freestyle. At the time he thought it was because he wanted to have a taste of how being deemed a worthy rival felt like, so when Nagisa asked him why he wanted to race against Haru, he said it was probably because he envied Rin.

But now that he’s two years wiser, Makoto thinks there was another side to that motivation. Racing against Haru had been a rite of passage of sorts—it marked the beginning of an end, since once that chapter of their lives ended, they would never share the same stage ever again, given how sure Makoto was about giving up competitive swimming. Racing in the 200-metre free meant Makoto could be on equal footing with Haru for the very last time. It was part of Makoto’s swansong, and a way to say goodbye to a part of him and Haru that would be locked away forever.

It’s not that Makoto feels left behind now that Haru is soaring to new heights in the world of competitive swimming. He did feel somewhat helpless for a while, but then the opportunity to become a trainer arose, and he realised that could be how he could still be involved in the sport, in Haru’s life. That delighted Makoto, and he’s been working towards it ever since.

But having dreams is a double-edged sword: Makoto never imagined life could get this busy, that work could get this tough. He thought studying for university entrance exams was hard, but becoming an adult is harder; it comes at an emotional cost Makoto finds himself unprepared for.

It’s exhausting, and Makoto wants to rely on Haru. But he can’t, because Haru is taking on bigger dreams than he ever will. It’s best for both of them if Makoto learns how to deal with things he used to involve Haru in by himself.

Makoto closes his eyes, thinking Kai’s not going to say anything, when she asks: “Sure, but will Haru be okay without you?”

Makoto’s eyes fly open.

“If you say ‘no’, it’ll sound quite pompous of you. If you say ‘yes’, then it sounds kind of harsh, because from what I can see your friendship isn’t that cheap.” Kai puts down the ladle, and turns to face Makoto. “Either way, it’s a question only Haru can answer.”

Makoto fixes his gaze on the ceiling. “Earlier, when I was telling you I don’t love Haru that way?”

“Yeah?”

“It made me think: I don’t, and right now I don’t want to because, to quote you, the way I like him is perfect, but I think I _could_.” Makoto hugs his pillow tighter. “I feel like it’s possible because I know we’re more than just friends already. It probably doesn’t make sense, but he’s the only one I like this way.”

“No, it makes sense.” Kai turns the flame off and goes to sit in Makoto’s desk chair. “Not to brand you with a label, but it sounds like a legit queerplatonic relationship to me.”

“A what?”

“More than friends, less than lovers. No romance, no sex, but a lot of attraction. You’re each other’s person, that sorta thing.”

Makoto stares at Kai in surprise. “That actually sounds accurate.”

“I had someone before.” Kai sounds wistful; Makoto doesn’t try to probe. “So? What has this got to do with proving you can be okay without Haru?”

It’s a heavy thing to confess, but Makoto thinks it might do him good to get it off his chest. “Recently I’ve started to worry that if I depend on him like I’ve always done, I’ll be holding him back.”

Kai’s eyebrows dart towards her hairline. “Holding him back from?”

“I don’t know. Commitments. Dreams. Life.” Makoto gives a sorry smile. “He may not look like it, but Haru responds to emotional inadequacy in a really big, self-sacrificial way. He values relationships a lot.”

Kai gives a slow nod. “Okay. So you’re saying you’re actually aware that you’re as important to him as he is to you.”

Makoto feels his face go hot, and it’s not because of the fever. “I guess.” _Yes._

“Fair enough. Well, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to discount your needs for his sake, but I think it’s very on-brand for you. I’ve never met anyone with as high an emotional quotient as you, after all.”

Makoto smiles. “I’m flattered.”

Kai’s countenance shifts, and she looks away from Makoto, face reddening. “I’m sorry, by the way. For assuming you’re into Haru. Now that I know what it is I feel kind of guilty for thinking it was different.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” says Kai immediately. “It’s something really personal for me, something I’ve been on the receiving end of, and been bullied for.” Kai halts. “I don’t like that I was the one who did the assuming in this particular situation, that’s all.”

Makoto picks up on a past Kai doesn’t seem ready to share, so he decides to stay on topic. “But you weren’t entirely wrong. After all, me not loving Haru that way might mean I’m not into him, but since I’ve even considered that I _could_ love him means I’m _not_ not-into him.” It feels right saying this, even though it sounds ridiculously convoluted out loud. “So that makes me not like ‘all the straights’. I don’t know what I am, but I’ve never liked a girl. I actually don’t think I ever will.”

Kai’s eyes widen at him as she tucks her chin towards her chest while tensing her lips, nostrils flaring. It’s such an unflattering expression that Makoto lets out a snort. Hearing him, Kai bares her teeth while further enlarging her nostrils, and Makoto squeezes his pillow around his head to bolster it so it doesn’t hurt too much when he laughs.

“You’re so weird,” wheezes Makoto into the pillow.

“I get that a lot,” says Kai.

When Makoto is done laughing he says abruptly: “I’m not into boys either.”

The air goes still. He takes the pillow off his face, wondering if Kai heard. She’s staring at him, so she probably did. Makoto fingers the corner of the pillowcase. “I don’t think Haru counts, because I don’t want to… Do things with him.”

Kai scoots forward in her chair, bumping her knees on the edge of Makoto’s bed. “You don’t have to answer this if you’re not comfortable, but… when you say you ‘don’t want’ to do things with him, does it mean the thoughts actually cross your mind but they revolt you, or the thoughts simply don’t exist?”

The way Kai is putting it across, giving names to feelings Makoto knows he’s been having but has never been able to employ any actual vocabulary to make sense of it all—it’s a switch clicking into place, connecting a circuit that sets a whole city of lightbulbs off in his head.

“They don’t exist,” says Makoto, more in wonder than confession.

Kai gives him a sympathetic look. “I get that,” she says, voice reassuring. “But 'doing things’ isn’t the same as loving a person. You need to know that.”

They share a bout of silence as Makoto ponders over whether this is truth or opinion.

“Even if that’s the case,” says Makoto eventually, "it doesn’t change the fact that I’m different. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Do you think being this close with Haru for so long broke me?”

“Oh my god, no. Don’t say that!” exclaims Kai. “Even if you meant it as a joke, don’t say that. You’re not broken, and Haru didn’t break you!”

"I didn’t mean it like that.” Makoto shoots Kai a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kai quirks her mouth to one side. “I won’t tell Haru.”

Makoto offers Kai a weak grin.

“Seriously, though,” says Kai, “has it ever occurred to you that you could be like me?”

Makoto shakes his head. “You like girls.”

“And guys, though rarely.” Kai shifts in her chair, bring her leg up to her knee so she can grab her ankle. “But just romantically.”

Makoto isn’t sure he gets it, and Kai reads the confusion off him.

“In my world,” Kai goes on, “my attractions are split. There’s all sorts—aesthetic, romantic, and sexual, amongst others. Aesthetic attraction for me is like, I look at someone and I find them pretty. Sometimes this leads to a romantic feeling, sometimes it doesn’t. You follow?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. So that’s romantic attraction. I have that. What I don’t have is sexual attraction. This means I don’t find myself drawn to anyone for banging purposes. I don’t look at someone or think of someone and go, ‘Oh, you’re so hot, I need to fuck you.’ That, in itself, makes me asexual. The fact that I actually find the idea of banging to be one huge ew makes me sex- _repulsed_. Two different things.”

Makoto depresses his fever patch in an attempt to cool his face down, feeling embarrassed to be talking about such a personal topic with someone. “I want to understand, but it’s hard.”

“Basically I’m saying that wanting or not wanting to fuck someone is one thing, and having an aversion to fucking someone is another.”

Makoto hides his face in his pillow. “Kai, ‘fuck’ is a really strong word—”

“God, Makoto, you saint—” Kai presses the back of her hand to her forehead, despairing.

“I can’t help it!”

“Okay, fine. I won’t use that word. So—when someone says they’re asexual,” Kai gestures to herself, “it means they don’t feel any sexual attraction to another person. That’s it.”

“I always thought it had to do with not liking it, or choosing not to have it.”

“Oh, no. It’s not a choice. You can choose not to have sex, but you can’t control a lack of attraction.”

“So it’s like a feeling of nothing for the other person when you think about the act.” This is a concept that Makoto can relate to.

“Exactly.” Kai jabs her pointer into the air. “Also, how people behave sexually is a different thing from being asexual. You can be asexual and watch a raunchy movie and feel horny, but it’s not like you want to have sex with the people in the movie. You don’t have to do anything about it. Or you could take care of the feeling by jerking off, and if you have a sexual partner you could even ask them if they’re cool with having sex right then. Doesn’t mean you’re any less asexual.”

“Asexuals have sexual partners?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m not part of that camp, but I understand the concept, especially as someone who wants a romantic partner at some point. It’s something that torments me, which is why I think about it a lot.” Kai pauses to laugh. “I imagine someone who isn’t attracted to their partner sexually but still has sex with them is something like waking up the morning of a competition and not having an appetite but eating the five hundred calories for breakfast anyway, because their partner made that amazing breakfast and they love them for it. You know what I mean?”

Makoto gets the analogy. “Your appetite is separate from the actual eating.”

“That’s right. The urge to eat isn’t there, but you eat the food for a variety of reasons—maybe you want to make sure you perform well during your match. Or maybe you want to show your appreciation for whoever made you the food, or the food feels good in your mouth.” Kai pauses when she sees Makoto duck behind his pillow again, catching the innuendo. “This means there are many reasons why asexual people have sex. Or not. It’s a whole spectrum.”

“I don’t mind eating the food,” says Makoto, blushing as he peers at Kai over the edge of his pillow. “If someone I like asks me to eat the food I think I would. It’s not like the food will taste bad just because I have no appetite.”

“Exactly, and that’s valid. _I_ find all the food disgusting, end of story.”

Makoto curls up on his bed. “But that’s just the sleeping with people part, right? I don’t have the falling in love thing happening to me too.”

“There are people who are asexual and aromantic. It’s common. And many of them don’t experience the split attraction thing that I do. They’re simply not keen on both sex and romance, and that’s okay.”

“Aromantic means you don’t feel like you want to be in love with someone?” 

“You could say that. More accurately it means you don’t feel like being in love with _anyone_.”

“But I—” Makoto decides the conversation has escalated to a point where embarrassment is futile, so he ploughs on, “—I don’t mind being in love with someone. I just don’t think I’ve had it. What does that make me?”

“That makes you _you_ , Makoto.”

“But now I kind of want an answer.”

“It’s not an answer I can give you. Listen—you could be greyromantic, demiromantic, who knows? Labels are only useful up to a certain point, but we don’t actually need them. They can even change, because _we_ change. Ultimately they’re useful tools that give you words which help you understand yourself, but they can never dictate who you are. If you’re interested there’s a lot of information on the internet, and I can be your real-life resource, but no one can label you except yourself. Okay?”

Makoto nods.

“Remember—you’re not broken. You’re perfectly fine.”

“Just different,” says Makoto softly.

“Not too different,” laughs Kai. “You’re not alone in this, you big nerd.”

Makoto smiles. They then hear Makoto’s phone buzzing in his bag, and Kai drags the backpack from under the desk to the bed so Makoto can reach into it.

“It’s Haru,” says Makoto, opening the message.

_Went to the pool yesterday. You weren’t there. Misaki-kun said you’re only coming in once a week now. Is everything ok?_

“He’s asking if everything’s okay.”

Kai stiffens her hands and starts gesticulating towards the phone. “Not okay, Haru,” she says to the phone, “Makoto is not okay!”

 _I’m okay!_ Makoto types, then sends out the message. He still thinks it’s better not to tell Haru he’s sick.

“You totally told him you’re okay, didn’t you,” says Kai. She sighs and gets to her feet. “I don’t think he’s gonna fall for it though.” Kai picks up her backpack. “Gruel’s in the saucepan, let it sit for as long as you want, it’ll only get softer. I’m going back to school. Take care, okay? Hope Sacchon comes through with the notes.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate—” There’s another buzz from Makoto’s phone, then several more. “Haru’s calling,” says Makoto, waving goodbye to Kai before picking up the call.

“Makoto?” comes Haru’s voice.

“Haru?” Makoto checks the time. It’s probably Haru’s lunch break.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am.”

“You sound weird.”

“It’s my allergies.” Makoto turns on his side, then spots Kai’s phone right by the hob. “Haru, hang on—Kai? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, wearing my shoes!”

“You left your phone by the stove.”

Kai comes back in, grabs her phone, says bye again, and goes back out into the entryway. Makoto puts the phone back to his ear.

“Sorry, Haru?”

An intake of breath. “Are you at home?”

“Ah.” It makes sense that Haru has drawn that conclusion: Kai wouldn’t take off her shoes anywhere that had a stove if they were in school. “Yes.”

“Don’t you have classes?”

There’s no use keeping the truth from Haru at this point. “I came down with a fever in the morning, so Kai took me to the doctor and sent me home.”

Another pause. “Did your allergies make you sick?”

“Yeah. But it’s no big deal…”

“Did you get a headache?”

“Yeah, but I’ve been lying down for a while. I feel a lot better.”

“I’m coming over after practice.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m really better now.”

“I’m coming over after practice.”

“Haru…”

“See you later.”

The call disconnects, and Makoto is left blinking at the ceiling, realising one thing he’s left out of the equation.

Haru might actually want Makoto to depend on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this a day late, oops!
> 
> We finally catch a glimpse of Makoto's feelings towards Haru. :)
> 
> Asexuality is a tough topic for many people because it's so misunderstood and broad - some people, like me, believe it's a whole spectrum, while others believe it's not. I think this fic illustrates a lot of what I feel personally as someone who is demi-greysexual, sex-favourable (i.e. I don't experience sexual attraction very often but I like/often don't mind the physical act of sex) and romantically attracted to people. Thank you for allowing me to be indulgent and express these feelings through MakoHaru.
> 
> Next up: RIN! :DD I adore Rin and love exploring his friendship with Haru. The dynamic between Rin and Haru is vastly different from Makoto and Haru and I had a blast writing the nxt chapter. Do stay tuned.


	9. Hellfire Hex Exclusive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated birthday, Rin. This chapter was so much fun to write.

A snort, then a giggle. “Oh, god. What is that? _Gross_.” High-pitched laughter, recorded. Nagisa’s voice, and another he doesn’t recognise.

Haru turns on his side, grimacing as he gets a full face of sunlight. He opens one bleary eye, then the other, and is greeted by a picturesque cityscape with steeples, bridges and roofs shaped like shells.

Oh.

“Morning,” says Rin from the sofa as he sees Haru stir awake. Haru pushes up on the mattress to sit up, and takes a moment to collect his wits.

It’s Golden Week, he’s in Sydney, and he’s staying with Rin for nine days.

This is Day One.

Rin comes over with his tablet and sits heavily on the air mattress, bouncing Haru up and down. Haru glares at him, but Rin’s already thrusting his tablet under Haru’s nose.

“Nagisa and his idol friends are doing food experiments on their YouTube channel and it’s _fucking_ gross, look. This dude just ate a pickled cream puff.”

Haru looks at the screen, where Nagisa is screaming while being chased around a room by a guy pinching a tiny cream puff between his forefinger and thumb. One of the other guys tell them to stop fooling around and come gather around the table again so they can unearth the next item from the _nukazuke_ bucket.

Nagisa’s talent agency launched an official YouTube channel for their trainee idols about three weeks ago, and Nagisa and his idol friends have been putting out new videos every other day. The subscriber count is steadily growing, and even though Haru doesn’t watch every video he still clicks on them for plays to show his support. The one Rin is showing him is new, and Haru makes a mental note to play it later as he pulls the comforter off and heads for the bathroom.

Rin is getting his breakfast ready when Haru finishes washing up—Rin had offered to fix Haru a plate, but Haru said he has plans involving mackerel—and he tells Haru that Mikhail just texted to inform them their training has been pushed back 30 minutes because of ‘some pool inspection thingum’. It’s a quarter to eight, so they still have plenty of time.

It was their coaches’ idea for Haru to train together with Rin’s club in Sydney this spring (autumn in the southern hemisphere, Mikhail had to remind). Mikhail has always been encouraging of Rin and Haru’s ‘co-dependency’, as he’s dubbed it, and thought it would do them both good to train together intensively for a week before the summer season kicked off. Haru reckons Azuma had to be either bribed or blackmailed into the endeavour, since he was so contrary when it came to Mikhail’s suggestions. Whatever it was, Haru is thankful that he’s been given this opportunity. Swimming with Rin has always helped Haru break new ground, for better, for worse.

Haru and Rin’s first All-Japan Invitational last summer brought them to the Pacific Cup for the 100-metre free and the 100-metre butterfly—they went as far as the finals for each event, but still have no medals to their names. This is the year before the Olympics, and it’s not going to be easier than last year. Earlier this month, Haru swam in the Nippon Collegiate Open and cinched a few titles, while Rin has been racing in tournaments with his team all through the southern hemisphere summer. Haru has the Inter-college Championships after he returns to Japan, and the competition following that would be this year’s All-Japan Invitational, the qualifier for two international meets happening closer to the end of the year—Haru hopes he and Rin can finally swim together for the same team.

But first, breakfast.

“What’s Makoto up to?” asks Rin, pouring some beaten eggs into the frying pan.

“He’s in Iwatobi for the first half of Golden Week, then back to Tokyo for the second,” says Haru, walking over to his stack of tinned food on Rin’s coffee table. They stopped by a supermarket the previous evening on the way back from the airport, and Haru had Rin spell out ‘mackerel’ for him so he could look for everything that bore the word. He amassed about half a dozen different products, and bought two of each.

Haru picks a tin of mackerel and tries to read the label. _S-u-n-f-l-o-w-e-r_ oil. Haru thinks he can pronounce it, but he isn’t quite sure what it is. He thinks about which flowers are associated with the sun, then shows the container to Rin, pointing at the word. “Is this sunflower oil?”

“It is,” says Rin.

Haru is pleased he got it right, and holds the tin out to Rin. “I want this. Heat it up.”

Rin opens a drawer and passes Haru a bowl. “Heat it up yourself. Wrap’s over there.” Rin points with his chin towards the box of cling wrap that’s sitting atop the microwave oven. Haru proceeds to tip the contents of the tin into the bowl and covers the bowl with the wrap, but after he puts it in the microwave he realises he actually has to read the buttons to know which ones to press. Haru crouches for a better look at the words and quickly realises that the most confusing thing about Rin’s microwave isn’t the English, but how it only has eight buttons, two of which are just icons.

“Where’s the rest of the keypad?” asks Haru, and Rin snorts out a laugh.

“Sousuke said the exact same thing when he visited over spring break.” Rin grins. “Hit ‘W-a-r-m’, then use the plus and minus signs to adjust the time. After that hit ‘Start’.”

Haru successfully gets the microwave going; satisfied, he straightens, watching the bowl rotating behind the door.

“How’s Makoto’s trainer thing going?” asks Rin, falling onto his haunches to get a plate from the cupboard under the stove.

“It’s tough, but I think he’s getting used to it. He has on-site observations with Nao-senpai every week and although he can’t actually give any support to the athletes, he gets to see what’s being done, and how he can apply what he learns at school.”

“And he’s doing all that on top of the part-time job and the schoolwork?” Rin frowns. “Sounds like he’s really pushing himself.”

Haru nods. “He fell sick two weeks into the school year. His friend had to send him home; he couldn’t walk because his head hurt so much.”

“Ah, was it like that time in sixth grade?” Rin tips his scrambled eggs onto the plate. “He kept saying it was allergies then halfway through class he slumped over the desk. It scared the shit out of me—I don’t do well with people keeling over.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I did, he sat across the aisle from me, remember? I went over to check if he was okay, and tears were just leaking out of his eyes. I’d never seen him cry before, but that had to be some kind of physical response to pain that he couldn’t control. Really left an impression.”

“It happened a couple of times after that too. Mostly during springtime. I don’t think it’s just allergies. He must’ve been stressed.”

“Well, spring is when lots of new stuff happens all at once in Japan; it must be hard for some people to make the transition.” Rin glances over at Haru. “And Makoto doesn’t always take care of himself first.”

Haru can’t refute that. The microwave then sings a jaunty tune, and he goes to retrieve his mackerel.

“Talking about things that scare the shit out of me,” says Rin, deftly changing the subject, “I am still in _shock_ that my sister and Rei and roommates. How did they come to the conclusion that living together was the best idea? Do they think they’re on some kind of reality TV show? And how the fuck did _my mother_ think it was a good idea?”

Haru puts a hand on Rin’s forearm to stop him from banging the spatula on the counter; there’s egg flying all over the place. “Gou went apartment-hunting late and couldn’t find a place that met her needs, Rei was open to the idea of sharing a larger apartment than having to live in a small one, and their universities are right beside each other. As for your mother, I heard she felt Rei being with Gou in a big city like Tokyo offered far more safety than Gou being alone.”

Rin stares at Haru in rude astonishment. “I wasn’t asking for you to explain it to me, Haru.”

Haru stares back. “They’re both very systematic, practical people who successfully ran a high school swimming club.”

Rei glowers darkly at the frying pan, which is now heating up some oil. “Yes, but he’s a guy and she’s a girl.”

“Your point being?”

Rin slides several slices of courgette from his cutting board onto the pan, his chest flushed under his tank top. “It might be platonic now, but who knows what’s going to happen?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” asks Haru as he slots bread into the toaster.

“Haru. I don’t want to be an uncle at twenty.”

“Then that’s your problem. It’s got nothing to do with them.”

Rin heaves a sigh, and Haru counts it as him conceding. “To be fair, Rei’s one of the most serious people I know. I don’t think he’ll do anything foolish. My sister, on the other hand…”

“Don’t go there,” warns Haru, but he knows it’s too late: they’re both imagining Gou fawning over Rei’s muscles as she encounters him in various states of undress in different corners of their flat.

With a loud roar, Rin pan-tosses the courgettes at a speed Haru’s never seen courgettes tossed before. “Rei’s in the freakin’ engineering department of fucking _Todai_ , he’s knows how to protect himself, right? Probably even knows how to develop an app for that… And he’s still completely serious about swimming so he probably has a full schedule and doesn’t see Gou much, right?”

“Rin.”

“RIGHT?!”

Haru doesn’t completely understand over-protective siblings, but this isn’t the first time Rin has gotten his trousers in a twist over Gou and a guy. He looks on as Rin suddenly freezes, staring at a spot on the wall, and only shakes out it when Haru tells him his courgettes are charring. 

“Maybe that’s why,” mutters Rin to himself, nodding. “Maybe that’s why they even moved in together. Emerson did mention he lived with girls all throughout college. Actually that makes a lot more sense.”

Haru doesn’t bother asking Rin what he’s hit upon, or who Emerson is. Rin mind is a special place only a select, patient few can frolic in without being deluged by a kaleidoscopic flood of impulsive concern and mulish opinion, and Haru has found himself better off waiting for Rin to say what’s on his mind than trying to coax it out of him. 

It’s not to say Rin and Haru don’t communicate well—they actually do, and they get along, and Haru would even go so far as to say Rin is important to him. As important as Makoto, even. But while Makoto is one single great existence that Haru is loath to live without, Rin is many things to Haru: a rival, a comrade, an ideal, a pain in the ass; Haru has a hunch he’s the exact same things to Rin. It’s taken them the better part of a decade to finally get to this point in their friendship, where they can be around each other without any airs and graces (unless they’re taking the piss out of each other, thanks to them being hardheadedly competitive), and fight without worrying that they’ll lose each other. Rin has done a lot for Haru, things that no one else could’ve done, and Haru knows he’ll continue giving, because that’s who Rin is.

After Haru’s mattress is picked up from the floor and propped up against the windows for the dining table to take its rightful place, Haru and Rin assemble their plates—Rin’s boasts a prosciutto-ham-and-courgette English muffin, scrambled eggs and grapes, and is looking a lot more well-rounded than Haru’s toasted mackerel sandwich, but Rin offers no gibes; he’s probably too used to Haru’s diet, and all the jokes, however snide, have gotten old. When Rin finishes pouring them both some milk, they sit down to breakfast.

Rin grumbles about his most recent competition in Adelaide, where he anchored the medley relay and his team was just 0.03 seconds short of breaking the tournament record. Haru immodestly reveals that he clocked a new best time for the 100-metre freestyle and Rin curses when Haru gives him the numbers, vowing to beat it during their week-long training.

A cheery notification tone makes Rin look down at his phone; it’s a message from his mother. She’s coming in June and is asking if Rin wants anything from Japan.

“I think I should run an Airbnb,” says Rin, putting down his fork so he can reply his mother’s message. “Sousuke was here last month, you’re here, my mum’s coming in June, Gou has plans to come in the summer… Imagine if I charged all of you five thousand yen a day?”

Haru thinks about how Rin has never struck him as the enterprising sort. With his marshmallow heart, Rin’s bound to get taken advantage of at some point. Some lodger would trash his house and Rin would still probably buy into all their excuses, especially if tears accompanied their apologies. He’d scowl and throw in a few choice words, but he’d still suck it up and pay for the damage.

“Don’t start a business. You’ll fail,” advises Haru, and Rin flicks a grape at him. Haru manages to catch it, much to Rin’s chagrin.

“Oh, I meant to ask—how’s the air mattress?” asks Rin. “I bought it for my mum, but I thought I’d have you test-drive.”

“It’s quite comfortable.” Haru pops the grape into his mouth. “I like how there’s a remote for you to adjust the firmness of the mattress as you lie on it.”

“That’s a cool feature, isn’t it?” Rin grins. “Actually, maybe I should use it when my mum’s here. She was saying something about backaches, might be a better idea for her to take the bed…”

“Was Sousuke all right when he stayed last month?” asks Haru.

Rin looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

“His shoulder.” Haru looks at the sofa behind Rin. It’s a loveseat with spindly arms, and looks like a horrid way for a tall person to spend the night. “Since you didn’t have the mattress before I came, he must’ve had to sleep there?” Haru points at the sofa.

Very slowly, Rin places his phone back on the table. “His shoulder’s working pretty well now.” Rin picks up his fork, but doesn’t resume eating.

Haru bites into the second half of his sandwich, and notices how Rin isn’t meeting his eyes. He takes his time to chew, wondering why.

“It’s a tiny sofa,” says Haru at the end of his mouthful. “I’m glad I didn’t have to fit into it.”

“Neither did Sousuke,” says Rin, finally looking up, and Haru can see the apprehension stark on his face, but _why_ —

Haru’s sandwich stops on its way to his mouth.

The seconds tick by. Rin is gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles have turned white. Haru locks eyes with him, expression unchanging.

Haru then decides the next logical course of action is to finish his sandwich.

“Oi!” Rin throws down his fork and stands up from his seat, red-faced, shaking. “I’m trying to tell you something serious, you ass.”

Haru meets Rin’s outburst with a swallow of mackerel and bread, chased by a measured drink of milk. He isn’t trying to toy with Rin’s emotions. He’s stalling because he needs time to think. Rin is one of the most important people in his life and responding to news like that isn’t something that can be done in two bites of a sandwich.

Haru trains an unruffled gaze on his most tempestuous friend, and speaks.

“I get it. You shared a bed. I’m not dense.”

Rin presses his mouth into a tight line, then dumps himself back in his chair. He’s glaring at Haru, but Haru knows it’s a mask for his fear. Haru wants to alleviate that fear, so he chooses his words carefully.

“But you and I have also shared a bed.”

Rin shoots out of the chair, eyes flashing, and makes a grab for the front of Haru’s shirt, but Haru already anticipated Rin’s movements and has gotten to his feet—he clasps Rin’s oncoming forearm with his left hand, winds his other arm around to Rin’s back, slides his hand down to hug Rin’s waist, and twists his own body while yanking down. Rin yelps as Haru tips himself forward and lifts Rin off the ground with his back.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

“Oogoshi. But I’m not throwing you, so. Half-assed oogoshi.”

“HUH?!”

“Judo’s been a compulsory part of P.E. since junior high. I have at least four years on you.” Haru smirks. “Returnee.”

“That is not the point, PUT ME DOWN,” bellows Rin. Haru lowers him to the floor, and they spring apart.

They look at each other squarely in the eye, chests heaving.

“I didn’t not see it coming,” says Haru. “You and Sousuke. I’m surprised, but I’m not shocked.”

Rin’s jaw goes slack, and his shoulders slump. “How…”

“A feeling.” Haru slides back into his chair to finish his milk. “You’d better finish your breakfast. We have to head out soon.”

Rin doesn’t move from his spot. “You’re not… disgusted?”

Haru frowns. “Do you want me to be?”

Rin shakes his head. His hands are balled into fists, pressed tightly against his thighs, and Haru thinks Rin might actually cry.

“Rin.” Haru gestures to the plate at the other end of the table. “Hurry.”

Numbly, Rin goes back to his seat. He picks up his fork, but doesn’t start eating. He blinks at his eggs a few times before looking back up at Haru. “Just checking, you do understand that Sousuke and I, uh, we, um, w-we—”

“Fucked?” suggests Haru.

“That was _not_ what I was going for and _HARU!_ Who taught you that word?!”

“I’m innocent, not ignorant.”

“Who says that about themselves?!” Groaning, Rin crosses his arms in front of his eyes, a blush flaring all the way from his chest up to his face. “You’re enjoying seeing me like this, aren’t you?” Rin peeps at Haru past the underside of his wrist. “Ass.”

Haru props an elbow on the table and cages his mouth with his fingers, hiding a smile.

***

It was in Australia that Haru first saw the world proper. It seemed bigger. The skies seemed wider. Haru felt naked, frightened, restless, aching for change. There was something here in this uncharted wonderland, something he had to find, and he needed to do it alone. Rin was with him, physically, but Rin was just a guide. Haru had to find what he sought all on his own.

When Haru returned home, the world stayed big and the sky stayed wide, and in Haru’s hand was a key. It was a key to his dreams, to the world. It was what he was looking for.

But sometimes Haru still wonders if he found the right key.

 _Green curry mackerel,_ Haru types, then attaches the picture. _From a tin._

Makoto reads the messages immediately. Haru waits for his response.

 _!!!!_ , Makoto sends. Haru buries his mouth into the crook of his elbow to hide his smile. Green curry is Makoto’s favourite food; Haru knew it would impress him.

In Rin’s darkened living room, illuminated only by the light of Haru’s phone, Haru lies on his stomach on Rin’s inflatable mattress, updating Makoto on how his day went. It’s not something they do often, but Makoto is in Iwatobi at the moment and has been sending their Iwatobi Swim Club group chat a lot of pictures. Pictures of their high school, of Amakata-sensei and the current swim team (it’s got so many members now, Shizuru did a splendid job recruiting), of Ran and Ren doing handstands, of the conjoined popsicles Makoto and Haru used to share. The popsicles, Makoto had sent privately to Haru, which led him to ask how Haru’s day was (long), how was training (tiring), how Rin was doing (asleep, it’s a school night for him), and what Haru had for dinner.

Haru hangs his wrists off the edge of his mattress, his right hand still gripping his phone, and pits his face into his pillow.

It was in Australia that Haru first knew how his world would look like without Makoto. Haru is glad he learnt the difference. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know how loneliness looks like in broad daylight, how bitter the taste of independence is in the face of ambition. They’re all good things, things that have helped Haru realise he’s capable of flying solo, that’s he’s strong enough to survive this realm of competition the way he’s meant to, the way his friends hoped he would. The way Makoto hoped he would. The way he hoped he would.

Haru lifts his head when he feels his phone vibrating in his hand.

_Sorry if I suddenly stop texting. Ran and Ren are still playing ‘Tobidase!' in my room, but I’m falling asleep._

_Go to sleep then,_ Haru types back. The message is read instantly, but there’s no reply even after a good minute and a half. Makoto probably nodded off with the phone in his hand.

Haru feels his lips quirk as he imagines Makoto in his room, glasses askew, mouth open as he’s knocked out on his bed while the twins squabble over the best way to farm shadow coral.

Haru is about to lock his screen when his phone buzzes again.

_Haru_

In his chest, something clenches.

Without Australia, Haru would never have known just how much lighter his heart is with Makoto, how much brighter his days can be, or how much gratitude he can feel for a person’s existence.

Haru starts typing. _Night_. He hits ‘Send’, then sighs and turns over, clutching the phone to his chest as he stares up at the ceiling.

Haru has found a key, but he still hasn’t figured out if this key is something that will lock Makoto in with him, with both their dreams and aspirations—or if it’s something that will shut Makoto out.

***

They tug their kayaks onto shore; Haru grabs his backpack from the cockpit and locates the beach sheet. Rin comes to help him spread it out, and they lie on it to catch their breath.

“I won,” pants Rin, his face smug enough for Haru to feel that familiar urge to smother him.

“You’ve kayaked before,” Haru retorts. “I’m not going to lose to you when we go back.”

Rin laughs. “We’ll see.”

After they wriggle out of their life jackets Haru pushes himself up, digs into his backpack again, and pulls out a bottle of water. Rin drags his own backpack over and does the same.

It’s a cool, crisp autumn morning with hardly a breeze, and they’re the only ones here. It’s their day off, hard-earned and timely, and when Haru said he wanted to go to the beach Rin thought it’d be nice to take him to Manly, since the suburb is a mere 40-minute drive from his place and harbours some of Sydney’s best and quietest beaches.

“How did you know about this place?” asks Haru, taking off his shoes so he can sit cross-legged on the sheet.

“Chris,” answers Rin, taking a swig of water. “He’s really into kayaking, has his own inflatable kayak and everything, and he likes to do these solo trips when he’s free. He said this beach is always empty since you have to make your own way here over the water. Not everyone’s up for that.”

Haru smiles, casting his gaze over to the glistening expanse of viridian they’ve just crossed. “I’ll have to thank Chris, then. We’re meeting them tonight, right?”

“Yup. Back in the city, at seven.”

Rin pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his elbows on them, then wraps a hand around his fist. He presses his lips against his thumbs and inhales, then exhales. Haru wonders if Rin’s hands are cold.

“I’m glad you came to Sydney,” says Rin against his skin. 

Haru turns to look at Rin. “What are you getting all sentimental for?”

“I dunno,” says Rin. “I think you’re making me homesick.”

“Okay.” Haru goes back to admiring the sea. “I have souvenirs to buy when we get back to the wharf.”

Rin nods. “I know some good places.”

“Anything you want me to bring back for anyone?”

Rin smiles. “I might buy a T-shirt for Sousuke, if I find one that’s ugly enough.”

Haru considers this. “I don’t think I’ll see Sousuke until you’re back in Japan. We never hang out.”

Rin looks at Haru through half-lidded eyes. “Then why did you ask?”

“Gou. Nagisa. Rei. Makoto.” Haru counts off his fingers, and as an afterthought, adds: “Kisumi.”

“You _know_ Sousuke’s my—” Rin’s voice suddenly cuts out, and he looks murderous, yet alarmingly shy. Haru wants to laugh, but he already put Rin through the wringer two nights ago when Rin didn’t realise his earphones weren’t properly connected to his tablet, and started turning the volume way up during his call to Sousuke as he tried to hear him through his earphone-plugged ears. Haru hadn’t realised what it was at first—he had his own earphones on, watching one of Nagisa’s videos in the kitchen as he waited for the microwave to heat up his mackerel fillets, which was probably why Rin’s guard was down—until the sound from Rin’s tablet got louder and louder and suddenly Haru was privy to 10 seconds of saccharine horror in Sousuke’s voice. He walked over to where Rin was sitting at the dining table, bent to inspect the earphone jack, and pushed the plug in before giving Rin a thumbs up.

Haru decides Rin deserves a break.

“He’s more Makoto’s friend than mine,” says Haru. “They meet up for meals and such, I suppose I could ask Makoto to pass on whatever you have for him.”

“Forget it,” says Rin, his face flaming up to match his hair. “Nobody’s getting anything.”

“I’m not trying to tease you.” Haru finds the need to clarify. “Gou was who I thought of first. I’m already bringing back that magazine for her.”

“I know,” says Rin sullenly. “It’s not you. I’m just bummed I can’t say it out loud.”

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

Rin grunts. “Calling someone your boyfriend. I feel like a girl or something.”

“You’ve had twenty years of that stigma with your name. Time to get over it.”

Rin lifts his head. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one with the boyfriend.”

That doesn’t sit well with Haru, and he feels his jaw tense up. “There’s nothing shameful about it, is there?”

“I’m not _ashamed_ ,” hisses Rin. “It’s still very new to me, okay? I’ve never actually been with anyone before, and Sousuke… I spent a long time telling myself I only loved him like a brother.” Rin picks at the aglet of one of his shoelaces. “I’m still getting used to it.”

Haru keeps quiet. Rin has a point—it must involve some awkwardness for two friends to go from bumping fists to bumping genitals.

“It’s just you, by the way.” Rin concentrates on fiddling with his shoelace. “Chris, David, all the guys, people back home—they don’t know. Just you.”

This gives Haru a better picture of Rin’s vulnerability. “Are you going to tell them?”

“People back home? Not right now. People here—I don’t know. I mean, they’re all pretty open-minded, and Emerson—the guy with the butterfly tattoos on his wrist?—he’s engaged to a guy and we’re all invited to the wedding, so no one would lose their shit if I say I have a boyfriend, but I haven’t had the chance. Not that I _have_ to tell them, but I think I’d like to, at some point.”

“Okay, so it’s only about timing.” It’s heartening that Rin seems to be in a safe environment, at least. “Sousuke knows that I know, I hope.”

Rin’s face darkens. “He knows, but after what you did the other day during our call, he _knows._ ”

“I was careful not to appear on-screen.”

“I screamed at you, Haru.”

“You should’ve talked to him in your room.”

“No, I’ve got thin walls. It made more sense to stay outside.” Rin flushes a deep crimson, and Haru has a good guess about what happens when Rin and Sousuke have a video call in absolute privacy.

Rin used him as a censor. Or a buffer. Something of the sort. Haru doesn’t know how he feels about that.

“Haru.”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

Haru’s head snaps up.

“I didn’t think you’d take it this well. A part of me thought you might be turned off, but mostly I thought you’d just ignore it and pretend I never told you.” Rin keeps his eyes on the ocean. “But you’ve been really decent about it and, I don’t know, even though you annoy the fuck out of me when you tease me I’m still kinda glad for it because taking the piss out of your friends when they get into a relationship is normal, and it feels nice to feel normal.” Rin pauses. “Though, you teasing anyone is hella weird—I might even be privileged, in a sense? God, I don’t know anymore.”

“Definitely privileged,” says Haru, nodding, and Rin shoves him on the shoulder, laughing. 

They peel off their socks, roll up their pants and make for the water. They test out the temperature with an incoming breach, and decide to let the waves break over their feet first—it’s still pretty cold.

“When did it start?” asks Haru, scrunching wet sand under his toes. 

Rin studies Haru, as if to confirm what Haru’s asking about. “Officially?” Rin cocks his head. “January. Maybe February? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“It just sort of happened.” Rin lets out a soft laugh. “After I spent the New Year in Iwatobi he sent me to the airport and gave me this stack of notebooks at the departure gates. They turned out to be a journal he kept for months, all of its entries addressed to me.” Rin blushes. “He used to send me letters pretty often, so at first I thought it was just a compilation of drafts or something, but in them he wrote about his hopes, his struggles, his surgery, recovery, me.” Rin braves the chill and takes a step further out to sea. “I finished reading all of them on the plane and called him when I landed.”

Haru copies Rin and wades further into the water; he’s not going to be left behind. “You confessed to each other?”

Rin shakes his head. “There was no proper moment of reckoning. We started talking every day—something we didn’t use to do. We’d still talk about things we used to talk about, but the way we were talking to each other changed.”

Haru waits, but Rin seems too shy to go on. “Changed how?” Haru finally asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Rin scratches the tip of his nose. “We started flirting. A lot.”

Haru spends a second in thought. He’s seen Kisumi flirting with guys before, and he isn’t sure he can picture Rin and Sousuke in the same situation. Haru decides he’s not sure he knows what flirting is, or if he can recognise it if it happens.

“Sounds like chore,” says Haru. Rin bends to scoop up some seawater which he vengefully flicks in Haru’s face.

“Paying compliments, openly worrying about each other and telling your partner you miss them is not a chore,” barks Rin, flinging his still-soaked hand Haru’s way one more time for good measure.

Haru doesn’t mind the water at all, and pats it into his skin with his hands. “Does that constitute as flirting?”

“I believe so!”

“Hm.” Haru is still not convinced those are activities that are productive for a relationship, but he decides to give Rin the benefit of the doubt. It’s not like he has any experience to draw from.

A surf froths around Haru’s ankles, and as it swirls away he hears Rin say: “I’m curious.”

Haru raises his head.

“When you said you didn’t not see it coming… How?” asks Rin. “I don’t think we looked like anything more than friends in high school.”

“Does it matter?” asks Haru.

Rin looks sheepish now. “I can’t say I didn’t feel anything for Sousuke back then, but I think I hid it pretty well, sometimes even from myself. So… I’m curious.” He meets Haru’s eyes.

Ah. Haru never expected to have to reveal all this to Rin, ever, but seeing it’s happened so long ago, he supposes there’s no harm in it. “In junior high, Sousuke gave me this letter that you wrote to him, but he said it was likely meant for me and I should have it. That was the first time I realised exactly how well he knows you, and how important you are to him.”

Rin appears stunned at this revelation, and all he can do is gawk.

“Years later, on the day of our last high school Regionals, I heard you talking to Sousuke in the grounds of the arena. Sousuke told you he was going to give up swimming.” An emotion blooms bright and warm in Haru’s chest as he calls up the memory. “I’ve seen you cry in defeat, in envy, in frustration, all emotions directed at yourself—but there you were, crying for someone else. I remember thinking how Sousuke must mean a lot to you too.” Haru lets himself smile. “Meeting you again in high school, there were moments we couldn’t be sure you were our friend, but I guess you managed to sort out your issues and now you’ve finally become more like the Rin we knew back when we were kids. But Sousuke—I think he never lost sight of you. He’s always seen the true you. Even when you weren’t around he believed in you, stuck by you, protected you. And when you came back, I guess you did the same for him. So—you may not have looked like lovers, but you never looked like you were merely friends.” 

For a moment there’s only silence, then Haru’s knees buckle as Rin collapses against him, throwing his arms around Haru’s shoulders.

Haru bats at Rin’s arm. “Rin - _Oi_ —”

“Shut up and let me have this,” moans Rin.

Haru rolls his eyes and stands woodenly in the water, waiting for Rin to compose himself. It takes all of five minutes, and when Rin is done, Haru less-than-politely peels him off before he stalks back to the beach sheet so he can remove his clothes, get down to his jammers, and reunite with the water.

“Why were you eavesdropping on Sousuke and me at the arena?” Rin says from behind him as they shuffle across the sand, still sniffling.

“Who said I was eavesdropping? I was there first, you goon.”

“And you stayed there the whole time we talked? Creepy.”

“I’d like to see how long you park yourself on a bench for after you stand up midway through a race then get yelled at by your friend in the locker room immediately after for not having any dreams.”

“…Touché.”

After they’re sufficiently undressed they bathe close to shore, having half-hearted races here and there, and as the nine o’clock sun starts warming up the beach Rin surprises Haru with a couple of pool rafts from his backpack and they spend a hectic minute running across the sand to fill the floats with air; Haru is more impressed than he is baffled by this strange inflation method, and is surprised to find the floats are actually sturdy. Rin then goes back to his kayak for the hefty PVC bag Haru saw him grab from the car earlier—it turns out to be something called a sand anchor, borrowed from Chris’s collection of personal watercraft paraphernalia, and Rin asks Haru to fill it with sand while he goes to tether the floats together with the ropes and carabiners that had been stored in the bag. When Haru is done, Rin depresses the bag to get rid of excess air and locks the top before loading it onto one of the floats; together they bring the floats and anchor out into the water, and as Rin heaves the anchor off the float with a grumpy ‘shit, this dude is heavy’, Haru can’t help but feel Rin is once again showing him a sight he’s never seen before, because Haru hadn’t known anything about kayaking, floats you didn’t have to blow to inflate, and anchors made from sand-filled bags until today, but Rin is here to guide him and galvanise him, as he’s always done.

As they bob on the waves, their floats joined tip-to-tip, Rin starts telling stories about sharks being spotted in the area. Haru says he doesn’t mind seeing one, provided it’s nice enough to leave them alone. Rin says it’s a good thing Makoto isn’t here; once he hears about things like sharks in the water he’ll plant his ass permanently on shore and yell for them to report their safety every three seconds.

“Oh right,” says Rin, when he mentions Makoto, “Sousuke was saying something about how he bumped into Makoto at the bookstore and he was with this tall, athletic girl, and when he met Makoto at his school for lunch she was hanging around Makoto too. She’s his classmate or something, you know anything about that?”

“Yes. They’re best friends,” says Haru automatically, used to it by now. He’s been asked the same question by Gou, Rei, Nao-senpai and even Makoto’s mother, when she visited Makoto recently with the twins during their birthday weekend. It’s a lot easier to describe Kai as Makoto’s best friend because it raises far fewer questions than when Haru says she’s Makoto’s _friend_ , which only sounds evasive.

Rin gapes at Haru over the headrest of his float. “Wait, you mean she _unseated_ you?”

For a few weeks Haru had indeed been agonising in secret about Kai’s role in Makoto’s life, mainly because it seemed like she had a lot more to offer Makoto than Haru did, at least at this point in Makoto’s chronology: novel insights, a more tender form of emotional support, physical proximity due to being his classmate—these items were at the top of the list, and it was a relatively long list. But after getting to know Kai better over a couple of dinners and a pretty intense game night organised by Kisumi that also introduced Haru to the oft-mentioned, elusive member of Makoto’s Meijo Chuo trinity—Saotome Eita, fencer and United Cinemas employee (when compared to Haru’s circle of swimming nerds and one Shigino Kisumi, Makoto seems to have way cooler friends at school)—Haru is certain that Kai, as a person, just happens to be a great fit for Makoto’s personality, and the fact that Haru minded her friendship with Makoto more than he did Saotome’s was a red flag to how Haru’s issues were tied to Makoto’s potential to be seen as another person’s romantic interest, not Kai herself. He was thinking of Kai like how he did Kisumi in junior high, Haru realised, and he was surprised at how quickly his uneasiness around Kai vanished after that (despite the niggling thought at the back of his mind that looking at Kai a different way doesn’t change how Makoto is still single and available to everyone who’s interested in him). Maybe it was like how Asahi could suddenly swim the front crawl again after seeing Haru pass out during a run.

All a matter of perspective.

“His best friend from uni, then, if we’re being pedantic.” Haru then remembers Saotome. “Actually, there’s one other guy, but he’s always at his part-time job, so outside of classes Makoto hangs out a lot with the girl.”

“You’re in _third_ place?” Rin’s voice pitches too high for him to be completely serious, and sure enough, he loses his composure and ends up cackling at the end of his sentence.

“It’s not a ranking. We’re not kids anymore. Makoto can have more than one best friend. It’s like how I also have you,” Haru points out. "Makoto’s never been weird about us being close.”

Rin’s mouth slides into a grin. “Sousuke gets weird about us being close, though.” Rin says this as if he enjoys the thought of Sousuke being jealous.

On hindsight, Rin probably does.

“That’s his problem,” says Haru. “In any case, I’m glad Makoto’s got someone like that close to him. She’s a good person.”

“So—you’re rooting for them?”

“No. They’re not into each other like that. There’s nothing to root for.”

“Okay, okay.” Rin hums, eyes flicking upward in thought. “Question: what are you going to do if one day Makoto gets married and, like, moves to Egypt or something?”

Haru looks at Rin in vague astonishment. “Why would he move to Egypt?”

“That is _not_ the point.” Rin reaches into the water and slops some onto Haru, then curses as he remembers Haru actually likes getting splashed at. “You guys aren’t merely friends either, you know,” says Rin, and Haru knows Rin is deliberately quoting his line from earlier. “Anyone can see that.”

It’s the first time anyone’s actually said this to Haru’s face, and it stumps him. Usually people say that he and Makoto ‘really get along’, but the standard responses for that are ‘I’ve known Haru a long time’ and ‘This is normal’, with the implied _‘for us, who are childhood friends’_ at the end.

Haru lies back and thinks.

“Sousuke’s still your best friend, isn’t he?” asks Haru, keeping his gaze on the clouds.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“But you have sex, right?”

Rin rolls over so fast he almost falls into the water. “What the _fuck_ , Haru, you don’t ask people straight out like that—”

“I can, because you’re not ‘people’,” Haru points out, annoyed.

Rin groans and pitches his face into his float. “Fine, yes, we had sex when he came to Sydney,” he says, voice muffled by nylon.

“…I didn’t ask you _when_ you had sex.”

Rin raises his head, his face a perfect storm of ire and distress. “I’m going to punch you in the face someday, I swear to god.”

Haru doesn’t bother pacifying Rin. “Did you always know you wanted to have sex with Sousuke?”

Rin’s mutinous scowl flickers into confused concern as he picks up on Haru’s gravitas. “Uh,” Rin starts, before looking away and running a hand through his hair, “when we shared a room in high school I sort of - knew.” Rin looks at Haru. “I suppressed the thoughts, but they made me feel guilty as fuck all the time, so that definitely counts as knowing.”

Haru nods. “I think I get that. I’ve thought about you naked. Didn’t feel right.”

“Oh my god, _what_.” Rin curls up and clutches at his chest. “You’re giving me a heart attack—”

“I felt nothing.” Haru says this to reassure Rin, but he doesn’t look any calmer. “I’ve tried thinking of almost everyone I know naked, to see if I felt anything. Makoto, too.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t know if I should call you innocent or dirty.” Rin’s eyes narrow. “You thought of _everyone_ you know? Even Gou?”

Haru meets his stare. “I’ve never imagined Sousuke, if that appeases you.”

Rin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “So when you—” Rin winces, unwilling to finish his sentence with actual words, and makes a pumping gesture with a loosely closed fist, “in your mind’s eye there’s just… What? Nothing?”

“Yeah. I just… concentrate on the hand?” Haru pauses, then shrugs. “Still feels good.”

“You don’t need anything to, you know—get you going?”

Haru is about to say yes, but he realises that would be inaccurate. “Occasionally I read novels to speed things up.”

“You mean erotica?”

“Depends. Regular ones with sex scenes work too. I think it helps when the people having sex are fictional.”

“Oh wow, okay.” Rin sucks air through his teeth, nodding. "Maybe you’re a late bloomer. Like, a really late one.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Haru never imagined he’d be able to talk about this to anyone, much less Rin, but it makes a lot of sense that it’s Rin—he and Rin have just the right amount of history; they’re just the right closeness. He takes a deep breath and decides to confess what’s been on his mind for a while.

“I think there’s just something wrong with me.”

Rin draws back, stung. “Whoa, Haru. No. If there’s something wrong with you, there’s something wrong with me too.”

Haru doesn’t get it. “You’re not the same as me.”

“True, but I’m coming at it from the other end of the spectrum.”

“The other… end?”

“I kind of don’t mind fucking anyone?” The conversation has gotten to a point where Rin just barely bothers to tame his blushing. “I’ve had feelings for all the people and felt _all the things_. Doesn’t help that we’re in a sport that leaves very little to the imagination when it comes to clothing.” Rin skims his fingertips across the surface of the water. “Puberty was hell. I mostly liked girls but every time I had a crush on a boy I’d avoid it and try to _confirm_ I was straight by fantasising about the girls, and it was just—weird and wrong and exhausting.”

For some reason, Haru thinks about the time Kisumi came out to him, so casually confessing how he used to have a crush on Rin in elementary school.

“Rin, when we were in elementary school, did you ever…” Haru looks Rin straight in the eye, and it’s a short second before comprehension dawns.

“You?” Rin barks a laugh. “No. Not you. I mean, you were special, which may have made it all the more obvious that what I had for you was a clear departure from that brand of adoration.” Something that looks a lot like shame suddenly clouds Rin’s features. “I’ll tell you who I had a crush on, but no judging.”

Haru goes very still, fingers tightening around his raft. “Nagisa?” he whispers, even though there’s not a soul around for miles.

“ _NO!_ ” Rin’s cry pierces the air, and the assembly of plovers wading near the shoal take flight, frightened by Rin’s outburst. “ _Makoto_ , you fool. Why would you even say Nagisa—”

“You asked me ‘not to judge’.”

“Okay, fair enough. I guess Nagisa did use to look like a doll.”

Haru then realises what Rin’s answer was. “You liked Makoto?”

Rin flails on his float. “Before you get your shorts in a bunch, can we be very reasonable about this and keep in mind the fact that Makoto has been consistently sweet and _tall_ and almost everyone who knows him has had a crush on him at some point? Also, he’s absurdly hot, yet seems completely oblivious to it. Do you understand how attractive that is?” Rin is talking very fast, and he slaps a hand over his eyes. “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“You liked _Makoto?_ ” Haru finds himself repeating, mind churning with the revelation.

“Me and all the girls in class, and I think it was made worse by him only having eyes for you. I wasn’t in Iwatobi Elementary very long, but still remember the vile look Totsuki Nana reserved for you whenever Makoto shared his mackerel with you during lunch.” Rin laughs. “Can’t say I couldn’t relate; I clearly remember on occasion I would try to beat you in a race because Makoto helped you fix your swim cap or something.”

“Makoto didn’t only have ‘eyes for me’.”

“Right, _Haru-chan._ ” Rin holds a hand out to Haru, snorting.

Haru summons his most impassive stare and slaps Rin’s hand away.

“Anyway,” Rin gives Haru’s raft a nudge, “I seriously don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. Sexuality is just… complicated. But I am thinking of one possibility.”

Haru waits for Rin to go on.

“What if you need to actually have sex with someone to feel something?” asks Rin. “Like, I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure I could actually sleep with a dude until we started trying and I was all, ‘yep, definitely into it’.”

“Too much information, Rin.”

“This _entire conversation_ which you started by asking me about my sex life, Haru.”

 _Fair enough._ Haru sighs. “To answer your question—have you ever wanted to have sex with a melon?”

“What? _No._ ”

“Exactly.”

“…Elaborate.”

“It’s not to say it won’t be enjoyable,” says Haru. “It might actually feel good, depending on the inside of the melon, but I know I will never feel anything for that melon, and even if while fucking it I get a life-changing orgasm, I am certain I will never innately crave sex with that melon. That’s how I feel about sex. There’s no want for it. It’s got nothing to do with whether it’s with a person or a melon.”

Rin is massaging his temples now. “There were a lot of words in that sentence I shouldn’t ever have had to hear in your voice, but okay.”

They are quiet for a stretch of time, the light of the sky kissing their cheeks, the enormity of their thoughts rippling across their sanities as they lie there, twin specks in the cockles of a vast ocean. 

“Maybe it’s impossible for me,” says Haru, breaking the silence.

“To?” murmurs Rin, his eyes closed.

“Love Makoto the way you love Sousuke.”

Rin slowly opens his eyes, then squirms so he’s on his belly and can see Haru better. “I don’t think sex is love, Haru.”

“It’s part of it.”

“I don’t think it is. Sex and love may be related, but they’re not intertwined or inseparable. You’re proof of that.”

“That doesn’t sound comforting.”

“I told you, you’re not—” A frustrated noise escapes the back of Rin’s throat. “Okay, let me illustrate it for you this way: even if sex were impossible for us, like if we got into an accident and our dicks took a critical hit or something, I’m sure my feelings for Sousuke would stay the same. I’m attracted far more to his heart and mind than I am to his dick.” Rin scoots up further up his float. “Also, Makoto isn’t a melon.”

Haru feels his lips twitch. “What are you saying.”

“Melons don’t have feelings.” Rin digs his fingers into the fabric of Haru’s headrest and draws Haru’s float closer, peering at him upside-down. “Even when we take sex out of the equation, melons can’t love you. But Makoto—fuck, Haru, he loves the crap out of you. He’s spelt it out in words for you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel that.”

“I do. But it’s not the kind of love that you’re thinking of.”

“It could easily be,” challenges Rin. “If that’s what you want.”

Haru lets out a mirthless laugh. “This isn’t like me buying mackerel off a shelf, Rin. It’s not only about what I want.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Haru,” Rin’s eyes roll back so far Haru is sure he can see his own brain, “if anyone is qualified to give an opinion on you and Makoto it’s me, okay? Well, I guess Nagisa could give me a run for my money since he went to high school with you guys, but then again he’s never been your classmate, so I guess we’re even.” Rin thumps on Haru’s raft. “If there’s any part of you that wants Makoto that way, you really shouldn’t be afraid to pursue it. Trust him, even if you don’t trust me.”

Haru doesn’t understand how Rin can be so sure of himself, how he always has such lofty aspirations. Haru pushes himself up to look Rin squarely in the eye.

“Can we not forget Makoto has his own plans? His own dreams? We aren’t even sure if they fit with mine. It doesn’t make sense for me to try anything,” argues Haru, and it’s true—this is the other thing he’s worried about, and it might actually be the more worrying thing, because this fork in the path is something that their friendship will inevitably face, romance or the lack of it notwithstanding. Makoto’s with him in Tokyo now, and in the future he may well be a trainer who works with athletes like Haru, but how far can they actually go together? Makoto’s career might even outstrip Haru’s. It has longevity, after all. Haru’s could last until he’s 35, if he’s lucky, but if Makoto reaches his full potential early he might even get poached by Sweden or something, and end up leaving Haru way before they’re 35. Haru admits he’s likely projecting too far into the future, but these are things he thinks about when it comes to Makoto. He can’t help it.

“Bullshit,” is Rin’s scathing reply, and Haru doesn’t know why he expected less. “If that’s how things work, no one who has dreams should be getting into relationships. Athletes will be marrying only within their own sport. Long-distance relationships will be non-existent and people from different cultures won’t be falling in love over the internet.” Rin shoots him an offended glance. “Don’t crush your possibilities, Haru. Be more honest with yourself.”

Haru stares at Rin. Rin meets his gaze fiercely, unrelenting.

“I’m not you, Rin,” says Haru quietly.

Rin’s expression softens. “I know. But I also know you have what it takes to dream big.”

Haru gives a long sigh, then flops onto his stomach to pillow his cheek on the headrest, hands dragging in the water by the sides of the float. He shuts his eyes and thinks. What would it feel like to be more honest with himself? To dream big? Haru doesn’t have an answer ready, but a thought emerges at the front of his mind.

“If Makoto moves to Egypt,” Haru feels a tingling heat creeping up his face, and it isn’t just because the sun has gotten hotter, “I think I would want to go with him.”

They fall into another long silence, but after a while Haru hears sniffling coming from Rin’s pool raft, and he pushes himself up to look over.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m not, fuck off.”

Haru dips his arm into the sea, and sends a surge of water over Rin and his float.


	10. Malarkey Outlawed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of swimming in this chapter! :D Also we get to see some familiar faces :DDD

“Come on, Haru!” yells Kisumi, as Haru turns and makes his last lap towards the wall. Beside Kisumi, Makoto cups his hands around his mouth and yells the same.

It’s the second day of the Inter-college Championships, the annual precursor to the All-Japan Invitational. Haru is competing in the finals of the 100-metre freestyle, and this is his claim to the title. He is much, much stronger this year; he even has the physique to show for it. Makoto is brimming with pride.

“Haruka-senpai!” Gou has come ready with a plastic megaphone, impressively prepared as always. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Haru-chan! Go! Get! That! Time!” screams Nagisa, punctuating his words with pumped fists as Haru pulls ahead.

Makoto laughs and continues cheering, and when the stands erupt into roars and applause as Haru touches the wall, coming in first place with a renewed personal best time, Nagisa bursts out laughing and high-fives Gou, then stretches across Makoto’s lap to high-five Kisumi.

“We love you, Haru-chan!” Nagisa yells at the pool, before throwing an arm around Makoto and squishing their faces together, almost knocking off his trucker cap. Makoto tuts at Nagisa and straightens the cap; it’s funny to think of Nagisa as a celebrity, but even though they’re not getting mobbed that’s exactly what Nagisa is. He’s part of a group of idol YouTubers with a quarter of a million subscribers on their channel and in a place like this, teeming with young adults, it’s more likely people would know who he is than not. Granted, the current population of this sports facility might be far more interested in swimming than idols, which probably explains why nobody has asked Nagisa for an autograph, but Makoto has already seen some double-takes—mostly from women—accompanied by gasps of ‘Isn’t that Nagi-chan?’ in less-than-hushed voices. Nagisa’s agency is kind of strict when it comes to interacting with fans, so when they came up here Makoto, Kisumi and Gou tried to walk in a formation to keep Nagisa out of sight, but now that he’s seated in the stands it’s slightly harder to make sure he’s not spotted.

The pressure of protecting Nagisa aside, Makoto can’t believe Nagisa is actually here. He’s happy to see Gou too, of course, but Makoto met Gou in Iwatobi over the Golden Week holidays, and once more after that when he and Haru went to the apartment she shares with Rei to drop off some limited-edition Australian bodybuilder magazine that she’d gotten sent to Rin’s place, which Haru was then tasked to lug back. This is the first time in six months Makoto is seeing Nagisa face-to-face—so much has changed, and yet so little. Nagisa has put on quite a bit of muscle since they last met—Makoto can tell from the hugs—and his chin and cheekbones have gotten sharper. When Makoto asked if Nagisa has been training hard he said not really, and started complaining about how the agency dormitory which he lives in provides breakfast and dinner for their trainees, but doesn’t allow them to have sugar-loaded foods for either meal. Makoto thinks this is for the best; Nagisa’s staple diet of Iwatobikkuri cream bread wasn’t going to do his health any good in the long run.

“I wish I could be here tomorrow to watch Rei-chan’s hundred-metre finals,” says Nagisa, looking at the programme as Haru’s group disappears into the changing rooms. “But there’s a recording tomorrow and I can’t skip it since I’m already missing rehearsals today.” Nagisa pouts.

“Is it okay, that you’re not there?” asks Makoto, concerned.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s a school day, and we’re allowed to miss things for school.”

“But you’re not at school,” Kisumi points out, and Nagisa just winks at him. Kisumi gives him a knowing look, and laughs and winks back.

Makoto has to stop for a while and think if these two have actually gone to school together before.

“We’re recording all the races at home,” says Gou. “I’ll burn it to a DVD for you.”

“Blu-ray?” asks Nagisa, hopefully.

“That can be arranged,” Gou promises. “Do you want any other races?”

Nagisa pores over the programme booklet. “Is Haru-chan having any events tomorrow?”

“Yup,” says Makoto, “the relays.”

Nagisa turns to smile sweetly at Gou, clasping his hands under his chin.

“Okay, I’ll tape those down for you as well,” says Gou.

“Thanks, Gou-chan. You’re the best.”

Makoto looks at Gou and Nagisa, nostalgia washing over him; he feels terribly fond, and wishes Rei and Haru were here. As participants of the competition they have designated spots in the arena, however, so they don’t sit with regular spectators even when they’re not in the pool. The Hidaka seats are diagonally across from where Makoto is—the section is easy to spot, with its entire army clad in indigo and orange—while the University of Tokyo seats… must be somewhere, Makoto can’t tell, since only a handful of swimmers from the swim team clear the base time for big competitions like these. According to Rei, the swimming club is small to begin with, and they’re a mix of serious and non-serious swimmers. Given how they face rigorous academic demands, Makoto supposes it makes sense for the team to be structured that way.

“Makoto, you really love your kouhai, huh,” says Kisumi, folding his fingers behind his head as he leans back into a lazy grin.

“Is it that obvious?” asks Makoto, laughing.

“Yeah. You’re such a mum,” says Kisumi. He then waves to Nagisa to catch his attention and points to the programme in his hands. “How many more events till the two-hundred fly?”

Nagisa checks the list. “Three! It’s the last one.”

Kisumi says his thanks, then turns to Makoto. “Nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

Makoto nods. “But in a good way.”

“Too bad we’re not allowed to take photos,” says Nagisa. “Ai-chan was really sad when he found out he was going to miss the race, but he’s got to compete today so it’s not like he could’ve watched it anyway.”

“Can’t he tape it off his TV or something?” asks Kisumi.

“The Kanto block races don’t air in Kansai,” says Nagisa glumly.

“No worries,” says Gou, looking smug, “I can send him a DVD!”

“He’d really like that!” Nagisa beams.

The 200-metre butterfly is the one event they are waiting for, perhaps one that’s more important to them than any other in this championship. The three races that take place before it pass in a flash, and when the announcement for the athletes to enter the arena comes on, the four of them start fidgeting in their seats.

“Ah, there he is!” exclaims Gou, readying her megaphone, and Kisumi and Makoto both look to when she’s pointing.

Sousuke is walking up to Lane 3, representing Sejika Kyouritsu University. Makoto wasn’t able to come the previous day and missed the heats and the semifinals, so it’s the first time he’s seeing Sousuke swim since high school; his heart swells, so proud of Sousuke and all that he’s overcome this past year. Sousuke was very clear he wasn’t coming back to swimming for anyone’s sake, but Makoto knows he wouldn’t have made the decision if he didn’t feel supported by the people who matter to him.

A cry of ‘Sousuke’ travels through the air from the stands on the other side of the pool, and Makoto wouldn’t have noticed it amidst the constant murmuring of the crowd if it weren’t a voice so familiar: it’s Haru, standing at the front of his section, leaning over the parapet he’s gripping. Beside him is someone in a black tracksuit and red glasses; it’s Rei, and he’s shouting for Sousuke to do his best. A few feet away from them someone seems to be waving and calling Sousuke’s name as well, and Makoto heart soars when he sees it’s Natsuya-senpai.

From where he is, Makoto can’t see Sousuke’s face, but he can see Sousuke putting up his hand to acknowledge them. Makoto has to bite on the inside of his lip to keep his feelings in check: to know that so many people are here to show Sousuke support is marvellous, and Makoto quietly longs for Rin to be here too. He’s missing out, and it doesn’t feel right.

Asahi is in Lane 4, and Makoto sees him slap Sousuke a low five as he stands behind his assigned diving block. Makoto smiles, knowing he’ll be cheering as loudly for Asahi as he will Sousuke.

The announcement introducing each swimmer starts, and right before it’s Sousuke’s turn, Nagisa seizes his arm.

“Come on, you guys—we can’t lose to Haru-chan and Rei-chan,” says Nagisa, drawing his head backwards, inhaling deeply just as the announcer starts introducing Sousuke.

“SOU-CHAN!” yells Nagisa, prompting Gou and Kisumi to yell too. Makoto gives it his all, and when Sousuke looks their way, surprise written on his face, they only cheer louder.

“No discounts for Asahi,” says Makoto to the group, when the announcer moves on to introduce the swimmer in Lane 4. They shout with all their might, and Kisumi even throws in a ‘you’re a genius’.

The 200-metre butterfly is the longest butterfly event in a competition, a show of stamina and skill. There’s little to worry about for Asahi, but when Makoto heard Sousuke was swimming in it he was sceptical—for someone who had been in physiotherapy for months and had just gotten back into competitive swimming, it seemed like a reckless endeavour. But Makoto also has been schooled enough in the science of physical recovery to know that world-class athletes have bounced back from worse in a far shorter time, and Sousuke not participating in any other event was another point in his favour. It must have been a calculated move on Sousuke’s part, and Makoto didn’t see any point in worrying if Sousuke was being so level-headed about it.

“Sousuke-kun will be fine,” says Gou to the group, and Makoto looks around him, realising he’s not the only one with these thoughts. Makoto smiles at Gou, and nods.

There’s a flare and a buzzer, and the swimmers leap off the diving block. Asahi had a beautiful start, while Sousuke is pacing himself well, a respectable two heads behind the leading swimmer. Makoto can’t stop grinning as he sees Sousuke perform every stroke perfectly—it’s such a joy to see him in the water, and excelling at his craft. He’s worked so hard for this.

“Asahi! Sousuke!” Kisumi’s voice breaks on the last vowel, and Makoto looks over at him; tears are dripping off Kisumi’s chin, and he’s on the edge of his seat, eyes squeezed shut, lashes wet. “Go get them!”

It’s understandable, but Makoto is still surprised—Kisumi is many things, but he is hardly a crier. In that instant Makoto can see a history he often forgets is there: Kisumi was likely still very present in Sousuke’s life when Rin left Sano for Iwatobi, and he was the first of them to discover Sousuke was even injured at all, which means he’s the one who’s worried about it the longest. Kisumi’s never spoken about it, but he must have had his own issues to deal with when it came to light that Sousuke didn’t want people knowing about his shoulder. Sousuke forgave Kisumi for telling Haru and Makoto at some point, but the idea of revealing someone else’s secret, even when it wasn’t intentional, was something that anyone as decent as Kisumi would feel guilty about.

The turn just before the last lap marks the junction of buildup and payoff, 50 whole metres of cautious exhilaration for the spectator and, for the swimmer, a solitude-laden, oxygen-deprived journey of extreme endurance and measured speed. As a participant Makoto has always found 200-metre long-course races a special torture, but as a bystander he thinks they’re incredible to watch, because there’s no other individual event that hits that sweet spot between thrill and viewer perseverance—shorter races are, well, short, and longer races can be excruciating.

“Sousuke-kun!” Gou screams into her megaphone, as Sousuke pulls ahead of the swimmer in Lane 5, bringing his place in the race to second, neck-to-neck with Asahi in Lane 4.

It’s a fight for second place. The swimmer in first has been consistent with his lead throughout the race, masterfully rationing his air and energy, but second place is no trivial achievement amongst athletes of this calibre and acumen.

“Come on, you guys!” yells Makoto, as Sousuke lunges for the wall a split second earlier than Asahi; Makoto gasps, whipping his head towards the scoreboard as clocks stop and rankings flash—second place, as hoped, and third place for Asahi. Makoto leaps to his feet with a shout, fists clenched and throat raw with all the cheering.

This isn’t only a celebration for the runners-up—this is Sousuke’s ticket to the All-Japan Invitational. Makoto would be feeling more upset for Asahi being in third place if he hadn’t qualified for the All-Japan Invitational already, due to compete in the 50-metre free. Makoto laughs as he sees Asahi stretching out an arm to lock hands with Sousuke across the lane line, drawing him closer and congratulating him with a clap on the shoulder.

Kisumi is sobbing into his elbow, and Makoto tells him they’ll go down and congratulate Sousuke together later; Kisumi looks up and, upon seeing Makoto’s face, his expression crumples, and he wails as he holds up his arms for a hug, which Makoto gives.

“I knew he could do it, oh my god, I’m so glad, he’s been swimming since third grade, and his _shoulder_ ,” babbles Kisumi into Makoto’s shirt, and Makoto laughs, ruffling Kisumi’s hair. Beside him, Nagisa is pulling tissues out of his bag and consoling Gou, who has her face in her hands, shoulders heaving as she repeats how she’s always believed in Sousuke.

Makoto catches sight of Sousuke looking their way, and he takes his hand off Kisumi’s head to wave. Sousuke’s gaze lingers until an announcement comes on, wrapping up the event and cueing the swimmers to leave the pool.

This is how connected they still are, realises Makoto—all of them, even now, two years post-graduation and scattered across different lands. Some of them have stopped competing, some of them have returned to it, some of them aren’t even swimmers, some of them have been noticed by the world. It’s simultaneously terrifying and humbling to be a part of this connection, Makoto thinks, because it really feels like he’s a lowly, unaccomplished pedestrian in this tremendous odyssey who’s just written into the chapters because he happens to be in the right place.

But he’s still proud of his role, lowly pedestrian be damned.

“I’ve got to work harder,” says Makoto under his breath as they start packing up their things.

“What was that?” chirps Nagisa, turning to Makoto. Makoto just shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says, smiling.

Nagisa peers at him, then cracks an impish smile. “Not too hard, okay?”

Makoto blushes at being found out, but is also impressed by how graciously Nagisa’s let him acquit himself; Nagisa’s always been a genius at interpersonal relationships and this ability has only gotten more enhanced since he joined the entertainment industry, Makoto really needs to remember that.

They leave the stands, Nagisa moving into place behind Makoto, leaving Gou and Kisumi to bring up the rear. Makoto looks over his shoulder to check if everyone’s ready—it’s a bit dramatic, almost like they’re Nagisa’s bodyguards—and Nagisa tugs his cap further down his head before telling Makoto all systems are go.

“Are you going back immediately?” Makoto hears Gou ask.

“I can stay a few minutes longer,” answers Nagisa, “I want to say hi to everyone first. I told Rei-chan I’ll be waiting outside the arena.”

“We’ll fend the rabid fans off, don’t you worry,” says Kisumi.

Nagisa just laughs. “I’m actually not worried about that, but I appreciate it, Kiss-me!”

“Yeah, he’s more worried someone will take his picture and put it on Twitter and his manager will realise he’s at a swim meet and not at school,” says Gou.

“That’s absolutely right!” sings Nagisa. “You know me so well, Gou-chan!”

“I was your manager first before anyone else, don’t forget that.”

“Nagisa, I don’t want to encourage you to skip out on rehearsals again, but if that’s the case you should’ve worn a mask,” chides Makoto.

Nagisa snorts. “Mako-chan, do you think my manager will fail to recognise me just because I wore a mask?”

Makoto admits he may have underestimated the perceptive powers of a professional minder working with one of Japan’s most influential idol agencies.

They emerge into the lobby unscathed, but there are already spectators trickling out of the doors, chattering about which of the races impressed them the most, and most of them are young people in tracksuits, not all of them participants, seeing how there are some jerseys bearing names of high schools instead of universities. Makoto weaves through the throng as discreetly as he can, heading for the main entrance, hoping none of these kids, who fit right into the target audience of Nagisa’s YouTube channel, will snap Nagisa’s picture and out him for coming to support his friends.

“Kisumi-kun!” someone calls, and Makoto feels something withering inside of him as a girl he doesn’t recognise comes bounding over to their group and fancy-seeing-you-heres Kisumi.

“Oh! Misae-san!” Kisumi beams at the girl, then gives them an apologetic wave, and tells them he’ll catch up. Makoto gives him a grimacing smile and tries not to panic.

It’s fine. Everything is fine—there’s still Gou to cover the back, Nagisa’s still sandwiched, at least, and not exposed to any teenaged terrors. They’re almost at the door when there’s a cry of:

“Gou-chan!”

Makoto chest feels like it’s going to implode; can Nagisa afford to lose another member of their party? Instinctively, he pulls Nagisa closer to his side, and turns to look at the person who’s come and stopped Gou.

“Oh! Tachibana-san! It’s been a while,” exclaims Mikoshiba Isuzu as their eyes meet, and Makoto’s mind stutters as he says hi: does Isuzu know Nagisa?

Makoto realises the next instant that he doesn’t need to worry—they’re with _Gou_ , and she’s literally got their backs. Gou immediately puts Isuzu where Kisumi stood and tells her they have to shield Nagisa from any stray cameras. Isuzu, a glint in her eye, says to leave it to her.

“Hi, Isuzu-chan, long time no see,” says Nagisa, grinning, and Makoto lets out a sigh of relief—they _do_ know each other.

Makoto has met Isuzu a few times, mostly at the Hidaka University pool since she’s now a first-year and officially on the varsity team. She’s always asking Haru if she can race against him, but so far that has yet to happen because Mikoshiba-senpai gets in the way and says Isuzu needs to beat him first before she can try beating Haru. Makoto pointed out it’s something Mikoshiba-senpai would do, since he’s always been quite exacting when it comes to his siblings challenging other people. 

It’s a good thing Isuzu’s with them, though, because she apparently knows a spot: back in high school her swim team used to train at this recreational facility a lot, and they’d warm up by running in the grounds, which is actually a large park that’s open to the public. Taking one of the footpaths, she leads them to an area that is shaded by sprawling holly trees, the trees in the centre enclosed by four adjoined benches. It’s completely innocuous, and Makoto wonders why it’s isolated until they get closer and find the benches stained with bird poop. Isuzu has made sure they’re keeping a safe distance, but Makoto still backtracks, eyeing the trees with mistrust.

“Watch your head,” says Isuzu simply, as a pigeon descends from above and lands on the grass, head bobbing. “There’s this elderly dude who comes and scatters feed on the ground, so the pigeons all know to come here. Most people think they’ve found a quiet bench for an afternoon novel then run off cursing because the birds shit all over the place.”

“You don’t say,” says Makoto, making a face.

There’s an ominous cooing from the bench, and the group takes a further step away when they see two more pigeons perched on the seat closest to them, staring at them beadily.

“Are you waiting for Nanase-san?” asks Isuzu. “If so, I’m pretty sure the upperclassmen know about this spot too. You can tell him you’re at the bird-poop bench, he’ll get it.”

“‘Bird-poop bench’!” Nagisa loses it, and he laughs so hard he scares away the pigeons. Makoto notes they leave behind fresh poop.

Isuzu was actually on her way to meet someone else when Gou roped her in to guard Nagisa, so she tells them she’ll see them around, and jogs back towards the arena. Gou, following Isuzu’s advice, sends a text to their Iwatobi Swim Club founding members group chat: _We’re waiting for you at the bird-poop bench._ Makoto copies the message and sends it to the group chat he shares with Kisumi, Asahi and Haru, and together they wait. They’re not completely alone, given how they’re technically in a public park, and around them people are mingling with each other, some ambling on the footpaths, some of them walking their dogs, others bringing their children out for playtime. Gou and Makoto exchange a look, then discreetly move in front of Nagisa, who seems oblivious to the risk and flipping through the programme booklet, loudly announcing which other races he hopes Gou can burn on blu-ray.

Makoto’s phone pings.

 _I’m at the main entrance. What bird-poop bench?_ writes Kisumi.

Another ping.

 _lmao okay see you there—will pick Kisumi up on the way,_ replies Asahi.

The notifications show ‘Read by 3’, which means Haru has also gotten the message. Makoto believes he’ll bring Rei, who cannot possibly know which spot they’re talking about, and about five minutes later they see Asahi and Kisumi approach.

“How did you know about the bird-poop bench?” is the first thing Asahi says to them, guffawing.

Makoto explains that how Isuzu brought them here because they needed a spot secluded enough to keep Nagisa out of the public eye, and Asahi goes on to tell them just this morning their team had an episode with the bench: they arrived at the venue and did their warm-up jog, and Unita—Makoto remembers who he is, Haru talked rather admiringly about how he had nicknames like ‘king salmon' or 'sea urchin' or something along those lines—Unita finished the jog first so he decided to wait for the rest of the team on this bench, and long story short he had to wash bird poop out of his hair before the pool warm-up, and is probably on his way right now to send his tracksuit to the cleaner’s.

Makoto finds it less strange now that this area is so well known amongst the members of the Hidaka swim team.

“Where’s Haru?” asks Makoto.

“He stayed behind to wait for Rei,” says Asahi, “but they should be coming over soon.”

“Oh! Shiina-san, where’s Sousuke-kun?” asks Gou.

“Ah, Yamazaki? He was talking to Natsuya-senpai when I left the changing rooms. There were some other dudes around who were sort of queueing up to talk to him so I doubt he’ll be getting out anytime soon.”

“Aw, I really wanted to see Sou-chan,” says Nagisa, face falling.

“You have to leave soon?”

Nagisa checks his watch. “I have ten minutes?”

Asahi winces. “Ah, that’s gonna be tough.”

“We’ll let him know you wanted to meet him,” promises Makoto.

“Ah! Haru-chan! Rei-chan!” shouts Nagisa suddenly, knocking his cap off as he waves to Haru and Rei, who have just come into sight. Nagisa’s cry causes some heads to turn; Gou frantically chases after Nagisa’s hat, which has rolled off to the side, and flings it to Makoto, who catches it and rams it onto Nagisa’s head.

“Nagisa!” says Makoto crossly, and Nagisa looks up at him sheepishly, sticking out his tongue as he scratches his cheek.

“Nice slam dunk, Makoto! And Gou-chan, nice assist!” praises Kisumi. “You guys want to join the basketball club?”

“You ditched us just now for that senpai, we’re not joining your club,” says Gou, her voice devoid of passion.

“My, my, Gou-chan, I didn’t know you were one to bear a grudge. Consider me ashamed,” says Kisumi cloyingly, and he earns a jab in the ribs from Asahi, who tells him to stop being obnoxious.

“What are you guys talking about?” asks Haru, joining their circle. Nagisa is already flinging himself at Haru and Rei, and they catch him expertly—Makoto figures receiving Nagisa’s barrelling hugs is one of those things you never forget how to do, like riding a bike—and for a few minutes everyone is talking at the same time but somehow they’re all managing to get ahold of the main thread of conversation when suddenly there’s a shriek from behind them and they stop to see a group of high school girls on the other side of the cluster of pigeon-ridden holly trees, transfixed by the sight of Nagisa, in the flesh.

“Oh my god it’s Nagi-chan!” one of them squeals, and Makoto feels a sinking in his stomach as he realises they completely forgot to put someone on lookout duty when they were catching up with each other.

The gaggle of schoolgirls make for the group, galloping under the trees to get to them—Makoto instantly realises this is an absurdly unfortunate decision, though he isn’t the only one because at least three other voices beside him are shouting: “Don’t go under the trees!” but it’s too late, and they can only look on in horror as dark and slimy stains appear on the clothes and hair of Nagisa’s unsuspecting fans.

Makoto doesn’t know what’s worse—suffering the secondhand embarrassment of the girls looking so mortified in front of their idol, or said idol howling with laughter at their poop-pelted plight. Rei has moved to clap his hand over Nagisa’s mouth, hissing something about maintaining public image, and Gou has bravely gone as close as she can to the ring of fire, urging the girls to step out from under the trees.

“I wish we got all this down on camera,” says Asahi out of the corner of his mouth, and Makoto nudges him with his elbow, stifling a laugh in spite of himself.

They ask the girls if they have towels; they say no. Haru decides to sacrifice one of his own (Makoto marvels as he witnesses this show of chivalry, trust Haru to be so kind), Rei follows suit, while Asahi apologises for not having a clean towel handy. Nagisa takes off his hoodie, removes his T-shirt, and gives it to the girls, telling them to use it as a towel if they don’t mind. They gape at him, awestruck at his gesture (and likely also the way his undershirt is stretching across his pecs—the boy has _really_ gotten in shape, where was this body when they were competing at Nationals?), and behind him Rei silently claps.

Talk about redemption through fan service. Makoto is impressed.

The girls wave numbly at them before leaving, and the seven of them get back into their huddle, take a few measured breaths, then crack up in varying degrees of mirth.

What a day.

Congratulations for victories are exchanged—Rei and Asahi both crushed their 100-metre butterfly heats and will be swimming against each other tomorrow while Haru proved once again unbeatable at the 100-metre free—and then Nagisa has to go, so they say goodbye to him with well-wishes and promises of meeting soon. Rei takes it upon himself to escort Nagisa to the train station, saying he’ll be back since they’re planning to meet up with Sousuke, and Makoto is left with Gou, Haru, Kisumi and Asahi.

“I left Sousuke-kun a text to ask where he is, but he hasn’t read it yet,” says Gou, looking at her phone.

“Some of his friends from his old high school in Tokyo were talking to him in the locker room when I left,” says Haru. “He probably hasn’t looked at his phone.”

Makoto nods. “Let’s go back to the arena first.”

When Haru was in Sydney with Rin over Golden Week, Makoto barely heard from Haru—it was pretty normal behaviour for Haru so Makoto didn’t think too much of it, but on the fifth day he got a message from Rin saying he thought Makoto might want to know how Haru was surviving Sydney. Rin then sent Makoto a slew of pictures he’d taken with (but mostly _of_ ) Haru at a beach they’d kayaked to that day, and a really endearing group photo of Haru at dinner with everyone in Rin’s swimming club, in which Haru was actually smiling.

Makoto hopes he can return the favour.

For everything that Haru means to Makoto, Sousuke means the same to Rin. As someone who was in the know about Sousuke’s bad shoulder and his subsequent surgery, Makoto feels somewhat protective of Sousuke—he really is a mum, he’ll admit it—and he wants Rin to know that Sousuke has people who care for him, who celebrate his wins as if they were their own. Sousuke isn’t someone who likes to depend on others—Makoto can’t believe he went for surgery and spent his time in hospital all by himself—but he always shows up for the people who depend on him. Makoto has come to regard Sousuke as his own friend rather than Rin’s, and as much as he wants to show Rin that Sousuke is doing okay, he wants to let Sousuke know how much he means to them as well.

Rei comes back before Sousuke is out of the changing rooms, and they decide not to stray too far from the changing room entrance because Sousuke is prone to losing his way in a place he isn’t familiar with, and none of them know how many times he’s been to this building. They text Sousuke again and he answers this time, saying he’ll be out in five minutes. Asahi and Kisumi decide they have all those minutes for a bathroom break, and promise to be back shortly.

“Did Nagisa-kun get mobbed at the station?” asks Gou as Rei comes to stand beside her.

Rei adjusts his glasses and flashes a smile. “Of course not, Gou-san. Not with me around,” says Rei, before breaking into one of his trademark laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, Rei-kun’s the world’s best - _ack_ ,” Gou shadows her face with a hand, “the world’s best, uh, captain…”

There’s an awkward pause between Gou and Rei, making Makoto and Haru exchange glances.

_The world’s best… what?_

“Don’t say that in front of Makoto-senpai, you know I’ll never be able to hold a candle to him.” Rei recovers quickly, barely in a fluster, and perhaps he’s even too calm for the situation seeing how Gou is still hiding behind her hand and her neck has gone impossibly red.

Gou lets out a weak laugh. “Right.” She looks up, then says, with feeling: “Sorry, Rei-kun.”

Makoto slides his eyes over to Haru again, and Haru gives a slight sideways tilt of his head. Yeah, Haru’s got no clue either. Makoto decides to help diffuse the situation by laughing it off.

“I’m probably a million places away from the world’s best swim team captain,” says Makoto, chuckling. “But thanks!”

Rei offers him an exuberant smile, and Makoto can detect his gratitude, though he isn’t sure what for.

“Ah. Sousuke’s here,” says Haru, straightening from his lean against the wall.

Makoto turns to greet Sousuke, but not before noticing out of the corner of his eye how Gou is touching Rei’s arm and mouthing another apology, to which Rei just shakes his head, then smiles to reassure her.

A thought forms in Makoto’s head which greatly surprises him by how much it doesn’t actually surprise him, and he shelves it for the time being because Sousuke’s here now. He’ll run the thought by Haru later.

Sousuke is congratulated by everyone, including Kisumi and Asahi, who didn’t actually need five minutes, and Sousuke asks Gou and Kisumi teasingly if they were actually crying after his race. Gou, that sweet, honest child, says of course she was crying, what kind of monster doesn’t cry for their childhood friend who’s made such a grand breakthrough—while Kisumi waves a dismissive hand and laughs about how he must be a monster, then.

“Kisumi was totally crying,” says Haru flatly.

“You wouldn’t know, Haru, you weren’t there,” comes Kisumi’s slick reply.

“I saw you throw yourself at Makoto,” is Haru’s barbed retort, and Sousuke turns his face away from them, shoulders shaking. Asahi, meanwhile, has spared no discretion and is slapping his thighs as he bemoans Haru’s choice of words. With a sigh, Makoto nudges Kisumi and tells him to be more honest.

“Sousuke-san,” Rei cuts in, “Nagisa-kun wants you to know he’s really happy to have been able to see you swim today, and congratulations on second place!”

“Tell him thanks,” says Sousuke, grinning. “He had to leave for idol business?”

Rei nods. “He skived off a rehearsal to be here, but there are a couple of meetings scheduled for this evening that he can’t miss.”

“I’m guessing he won’t be able to see you swim in your finals tomorrow, then?”

“Unfortunately not, but he’ll get a DVD,” says Rei, laughing.

“I was hoping he could at least stay for a group picture,” grumbles Gou, and Makoto beams at her. Great minds. “I even brought my best camera.” Gou pats the bulge in her backpack; Makoto guesses the camera is the one she uses for school.

“A group picture? Today?” asks Sousuke. “The awards ceremony is tomorrow, you know that, right?”

“Today’s the only day of the tournament that so many of us are here,” Gou goes on. “Makoto-senpai won’t be able to make it tomorrow, and it’s so hard to get ahold of Nagisa-kun these days.”

“Ah, Makoto, you’re not coming tomorrow?” asks Asahi.

“Yeah. I opted for full weekend shifts at the pool because my weekday schedule is packed, and the kids are preparing for a tournament so we’re kinda busy.”

“That’s why I really wanted it to be today,” sighs Gou.

“Gou-san, it’s all right.” says Rei, a glint in his eye as he turns to face everyone. “We could do the thing.”

“The thing?” echoes the group.

Moments later they’re standing on the bottommost steps leading up to the entrance of the arena, Rei readying a picture of Nagisa on his phone, attempting to do what they did on the day of his entrance examination results announcement, except this time Nagisa isn’t being streamed on video. Sousuke finds this hilarious and can’t stop chuckling as he searches his picture gallery for a picture of Rin and the other Samezuka guys so he can do the same.

The sky outside is already dyed twilight, and at first Makoto is worried the pictures will turn out too dark, but Gou is fiddling with the manual mode on her camera—she knows what she’s doing.

“Let me take the photo for you guys,” says Asahi, holding out his hand to Gou for the camera. “This is more of a hometown thing,” he gestures to everyone, “so I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“What are you saying, Asahi-san? You’re also from our hometown,” says Rei, brow creasing.

“That’s right, Asahi,” says Makoto, before pointing to the spot beside him that Asahi just vacated. “Get in here.”

Asahi is still hesitating when Sousuke says: “Don’t treat us like strangers, Shiina. Come on.” He then juts his chin towards Gou. “Also, there’s a tripod.”

Gou brandishes said tripod, the grin on her face so similar to Rin’s it makes Makoto do a double take.

Asahi’s hand moves to cup the back of his head, and he laughs sheepishly. “All right then, if you say so. Can’t say I’ll take a better picture than the photography major, anyway,” he says, to which Gou responds with a winning smile.

Asahi goes back to Makoto’s side, then Gou starts arranging them so they’re all properly fitted into the frame: Kisumi and Sousuke are requested to stand on a higher step, and Rei, Haru, Makoto and Asahi are instructed to make a tighter huddle. Gou makes sure the screens displaying the faces of Nagisa and Rin can be seen through the viewfinder, sets the timer, and bounds for the space beside Sousuke, yelling: “Ten seconds!”

The picture earns Gou tremendous praise. 

Makoto feels a pang of melancholy when the rest start saying they’ll see each other tomorrow; he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see this group again. While Kisumi is asking the others how they’re making their way home, Sousuke comes to stand beside him.

“Thanks for coming today, Makoto. I know it’s not easy for you to take time off.”

“Not at all.” Makoto puts a hand on Sousuke’s right shoulder. “I was really happy to see you swim again. You’ve really gotten stronger.”

His lips parting, Sousuke pauses on a quick inhale of air; he then breaks into a smile and tells Makoto: “You’re not supposed to lose to me, you know. Are you studying hard?”

Makoto nods, then squeezes his eyes shut in a smile, glad that Sousuke remembers their conversation from a year ago.

It’s time for them to part ways—Sousuke has a bus that drops him right outside his dorm; Kisumi offers to give the rest a lift but his car can only fit four other people so Makoto volunteers to take the train since he’s got a direct line back to where he lives. Rei then says he’ll take the train too, but Makoto says it doesn’t make sense for Rei and Gou to go home separately if Kisumi’s already driving one of them home.

“I’ll go with Makoto,” says Haru, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

“Haruka-senpai…”

“Haru, it’s fine,” protests Makoto, “I don’t need someone to accompany me. Besides, you have a race tomorrow and you live near Asahi anyway—”

“It’s just a thirty-minute journey door-to-door,” says Haru, and Makoto can’t argue with that, not when back in their hometown their trips to the sports goods store and Samezuka Academy took far longer.

Kisumi turns to Sousuke. “And you, Sousuke? Do you know where’s your bus stop?”

Sousuke shakes his head. “But I’ll figure it out. My residence director sent me a link.” Sousuke shows Kisumi the map app he’s got open on his phone. Kisumi looks at the map, then enlarges it so it shows the buildings in the vicinity.

“Where are we now, Sousuke?” asks Kisumi, giving the phone back to Sousuke. Everyone watches as Sousuke studies the screen.

“Here, right?” He points to the red pin that marks the arena. It’s unsettling that he’s phrasing it as a question.

“That’s right, very good,” gushes Kisumi in the manner of a kindergarten teacher praising their student for a finger painting well done, and Gou and Rei have their fists clenched in front of their chests, rooting silently for Sousuke. “Now,” Kisumi shrinks the map with his fingers, “this other red pin marks the bus stop.”

“Yeah, I know. And the blue arrow is supposed to mark where I’m facing,” says Sousuke, his tone level.

“Exactly. Now,” Kisumi hands the phone back to Sousuke, “while holding the phone, can you rotate yourself so you’re facing in the direction of the bus stop?”

They watch as Sousuke spins slowly on his feet, keeping his eyes on the map, and after two full circles he looks up, then frowns as he realises he’s still facing Kisumi. Asahi slaps a palm to his forehead. Makoto is deeply awed at the degree of Sousuke’s navigational ineptitude. He thought Sousuke had gotten better—

“How did you find your way to my school when we met last month?” asks Makoto.

“Found someone in a tracksuit that said ‘Meijo Chuo’ and,” Sousuke slides his gaze up to meet Makoto’s, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards, “tailed them.”

 _Damn,_ Makoto thinks. Sousuke’s way worse than he thought.

“…Just go with him,” Haru tells Kisumi, sighing.

“I was going to either way.” Kisumi laughs. “The bus stop’s on the way to the carpark.”

Sousuke glowers at Kisumi, then burrows his knuckles into Kisumi’s side, making Kisumi whine for him to stop.

They all say their goodbyes after that, Asahi patting Sousuke on the back as they leave, telling him that it’s really not him, it’s Tokyo. Makoto hears Gou add that the GPS signal’s probably all messed up because of all the tall buildings and Rei agrees loudly, professing how he gets lost too. When Makoto is safely out of earshot he laughs with abandon; Haru murmurs something about how it’s a wonder Sousuke’s the only one out of all of them who has actually lived in Tokyo before.

“It’s been a long time since I got to spend time with everyone,” says Makoto, when they stop behind a crowd of students and office workers at a light. “I actually thought I’d get to see Ikuya and Toono-kun today, too.”

“They left early,” says Haru. “One of their teammates threw out her back after slipping in the shower room and Ikuya had finished all his events today so he volunteered to drive her to the doctor; Toono went with him.”

“That’s terrible. I hope she’s all right.”

Haru nods. “Text them later?”

“I will.”

The light turns green. They’re in an urban residential area so there are a lot of pedestrians this time in the evening, and as they make their way across the street Haru gently pulls Makoto out of the way of an oncoming high schooler on a bicycle.

“Thanks,” says Makoto, before sighing. “These bicycles! People ride bicycles all the time back in Iwatobi but they nowhere as dangerous as the riders here. Right, Haru?”

“Yeah,” says Haru, and he’s looking subdued all of a sudden, his eyes trained on his shoes.

“You okay?” asks Makoto. “Tired?”

Haru just shakes his head, chest swelling as he takes a deep breath. “Makoto.” Haru looks up, and Makoto is caught off guard by the expression Haru is wearing. He’s not seen this look since… that time at the airport, when he picked Haru and Rin up after they came back from Australia. Makoto remembers because Haru rarely looks uncomfortable or apprehensive around him, and he’s registered this as Haru’s I-did-something-wrong look.

“Tomorrow, after your shift at the pool.” Haru averts his eyes again, and Makoto wonders what’s going on. “Come over to my place. I want to tell you something.”

Makoto remembers the look they exchanged earlier when Rei and Gou were behaving weirdly, and decides it has to be that. It’s an awkward conversation, Makoto admits, and by extension it involves Nagisa as well, so it’s only natural that Haru wants to talk to Makoto about it since it concerns literally all their closest kouhai. Makoto was planning to bring it up even if Haru didn’t.

“Got it,” says Makoto, nodding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the first episode of Free!, Haru said something about Makoto always being his densest in the most crucial of moments. I've always remembered that :) I personally can't wait to let all of you see how I've imagined them getting together!
> 
> I loved writing everyone who appeared here! Nagisa is such a free spirit, Gou is such a sweetheart, and Rei (who's actually my favourite character XD) is hilarious in his predictability. And Isuzu :DDD I love her and I love that I got to write her! Finally - SOUSUKE, I love him to bits but that darling is _hopeless_ with directions. By the way, Sousuke going to Sejika Kyouritsu isn't something I made up, it's written on his profile, found in the DVD box of Season 3 (which I don't own, unfortunately)!
> 
> I really appreciate the comments and would love to know more of your thoughts. They really keep me going!


	11. Harbinger Cherry

Haru can’t sleep.

It’s always like this. He’s so afraid of change, afraid of losing something. Someone. Himself. He knows he’s gotten better now that he’s on the verge of adulthood—but it’s still frustrating to feel.

He wants Makoto.

It’s still terrifying to admit, no matter that he’s given it weeks to sink in, no matter that it unknots the tightness in his chest and sends waves of relief crashing over him. He wasn’t sure if it was a feeling he wanted to accept at first, but he kept hearing Rin’s words in his head: if there’s any part of him that wants Makoto, he should pursue it.

 _But why?_ Haru kept asking himself. Wasn’t he content? Wasn’t what they had enough? It’s been enough for years, and they’re happy. They have to be, because they’re not unhappy.

And then he pulled Makoto out of the path of an oncoming bicycle.

Haru doesn’t know why it struck him at that moment, but all Haru could think of was he wants to be the one who does this for Makoto, again and again, for the rest of their lives.

Haru’s face goes hot at the thought.

Haru has spent a long month overcoming a number of hurdles. He now understands that not wanting to have sex with Makoto doesn’t mean he doesn’t want him, or that he can’t have sex with him. He also has come to terms with the fact that even if his dreams and Makoto’s diverge at some point, it doesn’t mean they can’t actually be together.

Haru has made peace with all of that.

This means the only thing left for Haru to do is to ask Makoto if he wants to be with him.

Haru can’t sleep.

***

Hidaka University is runner-up at the Inter-college Championships, losing only to the tournament’s dark horse, Sejika Kyouritsu, the university Sousuke attends. It makes sense, Haru thinks, since Seijika Kyouritsu has a cutthroat batch of first years, while Hidaka’s strongest cohort, the fourth years from last year, graduated earlier this spring. There’s definitely some imbalance in Hidaka’s team this year; their coach has been ragging on them about that, though his complaints are mostly directed to the current fourth years, who have big shoes to fill.

Haru is extremely proud of Rei, who ranked third in his 100-metre butterfly final, failing to ride on the tournament to go for the All-Japan, but still breaking his personal best. He has one more chance to qualify for the All-Japan later in the summer, during the Kanto Regionals, and Haru has high hopes. There are a lot of things Haru finds admirable about Rei, and most of it has to do with discipline and devotion. Rei is someone who knows what he wants and—especially in recent years—how to get it. Haru thought Rei was going to give up swimming when he entered the University of Tokyo, but as he can now see, Rei has _plans_. Haru doesn’t think Rei is trying to take on the world, though he might as well be—Rei is approaching competitive swimming more as an explorer, pushing farther, deeper, excavating a potential that is still so new to him.

This entire competition Rei has exceeded expectations with his butterfly, which has evolved gorgeously after being honed to precision with the help of his teammates at Tokyo U. Through Rei’s performance, Haru has seen that talent can be expressed through ways impossible for academically-challenged mortals like him to fathom, namely through the exploitation of intellect. Although Rei’s track coach in high school had frowned upon his propensity for computation, Rei has proven it to be a gift. Not every swimmer can calculate the exact angle of the ideal dive or the most efficient arm placement when coming up for air on a stroke, but it seems like the guys at Tokyo U can—and taking it a step further is Rei, who is capable of executing these things. It made Haru want to stand at the top floor of the arena and yell how Rei only learnt how to swim three years ago, but Haru wasn’t going to embarrass himself or Rei like that, so all he did was to give Rei a congratulatory pat on the back and tell him to have a good rest. Rei thanked him and said he had a ‘spiteful night of studying ahead’ before he could actually rest. Haru sent him his sympathies, feeling bad for being unable to relate.

Haru declines Asahi’s invite to hanging out at Maron with Kisumi, Ikuya and Toono, being truthful about how he didn’t sleep well last night and can’t possibly be fun company, then spends a longer time than usual clearing out his locker. It’s still too early for him to go home; he has plans to drop by the supermarket to get some ingredients for the _kenchinjiru_ Makoto likes, but it doesn’t take him four whole hours to make the soup.

Haru pulls his bag out of the locker, slings the strap across his chest, and realises he’s not alone.

“Hey,” says Sousuke, giving Haru a small smile.

They haven’t spoken to each other one-on-one for the longest time, and certainly not since Haru found out about Rin and Sousuke’s relationship. Haru shuts the door of the locker. “Hey.”

“Do you have a moment?”

Haru nods.

“Know anywhere we can talk?”

Haru takes a moment to think. “Yes.”

A few minutes later they’re approaching what the Hidaka team calls the bird-poop bench, Haru explaining to Sousuke how some underclassmen who were familiar with the grounds had warned them about the pigeons that haunted the trees right above the seats, but one of their teammates hadn’t been around to hear the news because he’d run ahead of the group during their jog, and when he chose to take a rest at the benches he literally got bombed.

“Some of Nagisa’s fans got bombed too, when they walked under the trees to try and get to him,” says Haru, recalling yesterday’s fiasco.

“Pigeons with loose stools. Not something you see every day,” says Sousuke, looking amused as he studies the trees before them.

Haru laughs at this. “I guess.”

Sousuke checks the grass for poop before putting his bag down. Haru waits, wondering what this is about.

“Rin’s been worried about you,” says Sousuke, meeting Haru’s eyes. “He doesn’t want to say why,” Sousuke’s hand wanders to the back of his neck, and he looks quite embarrassed, “so it got me worried about you too.”

Haru blinks. Yamazaki Sousuke is worried about him. Okay. “This isn’t about me affecting Rin’s performance again, is it?” asks Haru.

Sousuke shakes his head. “Rin knew we’d be meeting at the tournament and asked if you were swimming okay. I told him you were swimming fine, but when I saw your relay today I thought… maybe not.”

Haru tenses. “What do you mean?”

Sousuke shrugs. “Your centre of gravity was off. I could hear your coach cursing when you swam, so I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”

Good thing they won the relay then.

“I’m fine,” says Haru, knowing it sounds like as much of an excuse as it is. “I just lost some sleep yesterday, that’s all. Tell Rin not to worry.”

Sousuke doesn’t look convinced, but Haru doesn’t owe him an explanation. He opens his mouth to say he’s got to go, but Sousuke speaks first.

“It’s not just Rin who’s worried.” Sousuke shoves his hands in his pockets. “I know we don’t have the prettiest history, but you’re…” Sousuke trails off. “I feel grateful to you. For being the friend you are to Rin. To me.”

“I don’t think I’ve done very much for either of you,” says Haru honestly. To begin with, Rin’s done far more for Haru than Haru will ever do for him, and Haru can hardly recall doing anything more for Sousuke than kicking a water gun to him during a crucial juncture in a survival game in which they were teammates, at Samezuka’s school festival a couple of years ago.

“You cheered me on yesterday,” says Sousuke, slowly. “Thanks for that. I was really surprised.”

“That was nothing,” says Haru. “Other people were cheering for you too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never told other people that they’ll fuck up Rin’s life if they don’t get their shit together.”

Haru falls quiet. Sousuke has a point. They were never enemies—that’s far too dramatic a status—but whatever they were, they’ve come a long way from then.

“Not that I’m taking any of that back, of course,” says Sousuke with a cocky air, and Haru manages to find it in himself to laugh. “Haru, I’m not really good with words, but… For what it’s worth, you’ve become really important to us.” Sousuke’s hand returns to the back of his neck. “We don’t want to meddle, but we just want you to know we’re concerned.”

 _Us. We_. Sousuke says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it’s wondrous and enviable, this instant comprehension on Haru’s part of how the words mean Sousuke and Rin as a collective. How does it feel to profess that you’re an entity with another person? Haru is sorely tempted to ask.

“When you gave Rin your journal, were you scared?” Haru finds himself probing before he can regret it, and Sousuke’s eyes turn so wide he looks almost comical.

Okay, Rin obviously didn’t tell Sousuke Haru knows about the journal. Haru wants to dig a hole and plunge into it.

“Forget it,” says Haru, turning on his heel. “It’s none of my business.”

“But you’re asking for a reason,” says Sousuke.

Haru stops.

“I wasn’t scared,” says Sousuke, softly but surely.

Haru comes to face Sousuke again. “But it could’ve ruined your friendship.”

Sousuke shrugs. “Maybe. It was a gamble, not gonna lie.”

“Then why?” says Haru, dread pooling within him.

Cold feet. This is the _epitome_ of cold feet. Haru knows what he’s trying to do: he’s trying to find reasons to back out of telling Makoto his feelings. Haru thinks he might actually be in pain, because right now it feels like something is dying inside him—while it’s awful to think he won’t ever find the nerve to tell Makoto about his feelings, it’s equally terrible to be relieved at the reminder that escaping is still an option. It’s like he has a devil sitting on each shoulder. How can fear be bigger than this frighteningly enormous desire? How can these two emotions exist side by side?

Haru is afraid to hear what Sousuke has to say, because he thinks hearing it will either push him into doing what he wants to do, or convince him to back out.

Sousuke’s gaze is steady, and he’s taking his time to answer. “If you’re asking why I wasn’t scared, it’s because I think I know Rin better than I know myself, and I thought I had pretty good chances,” he finally says. “If you’re asking why I did it, well. I guess I felt like I had to, otherwise I’d lose him to someone else eventually. Sounds a bit selfish, but it’s true.”

Haru’s thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Okay. That was completely unexpected. Sousuke’s experience doesn’t seem to apply to him at all. Firstly, Haru doesn’t know Makoto better than he knows himself. They’re pretty equal in that respect, which also means Haru doesn’t know what his chances are. At all. And Haru certainly doesn’t feel like he has to confess to Makoto to keep him by his side. The prospect of pining after Makoto in complete secret until the day he dies remains fairly attractive, because he knows Makoto will be there by his deathbed. 

Haru presses his fist against his forehead, tired of this assault on his sanity. He honestly thought Sousuke could give him some insight at least, as someone who’s successfully initiated a shift from a platonic relationship with his childhood best friend into a romantic one. But so far Sousuke has been quite useless.

“Let’s go, Sousuke.”

Sousuke raises his eyebrows. “We’re finished?”

“Yeah. I’ve realised you’re of no help.”

Sousuke looks miffed. “ _You’re_ not telling me what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” says Haru, irritated. “Forget it. Just - never mind. Let’s go.” Haru turns and starts walking.

Sousuke snatches up his bag and follows. “Where are we going?”

“Your bus stop.”

“Wait.” Sousuke tugs on Haru’s bag to stop him. Haru halts, but doesn’t face him. “Haru.”

Haru closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything. After a while he turns. “Let go. People might think we’re fighting.”

“Right.” Sousuke sighs, then comes to stand in front of Haru, his cheeks tinged pink. “I wasn’t scared at the beginning, but I was scared after. When I decided to visit Rin in Sydney.”

Haru stills. “Why?”

“I… never imagined I could like a person I already liked so much this much more.”

Haru looks up at Sousuke, who’s studiously avoiding meeting Haru’s eyes. This is actually the first useful thing Sousuke has said the entire conversation.

Haru gets why Sousuke became scared when things got serious. Wading in deeper means the stakes are higher. This is something Haru understands. He’s struggled with similar feelings, though more in the context of deciding to build a career in competitive swimming.

_Haru could actually love Makoto more._

And in that vein, so could Makoto love Haru more.

Haru realises he’s mostly been envisioning worst-case scenarios. He’s neglected to envision the best ones.

The most threatening thing about the whole affair is the uncertainty of not knowing what’s going to happen after Haru confesses: every time he lets himself imagine Makoto liking him back, he automatically jumps to the thought of them not working out and breaking up, which gives rise to the fear of how they’ll never being able to mend their relationship to how it used to be before. 

But this prediction about encountering a higher-stakes love, should Makoto reciprocate his feelings, strikes him as grounded and sound. After all, at some point Haru’s original ‘like’ for Makoto became a ‘different like’ and while it’s daunting to consider the possibility of this 'different like’ growing into a ‘greater like’, if it’s love that’s changed, it’s only natural to consider it as the one variable that is susceptible to growth. And if it actually grows, wouldn’t that be the most beautiful thing to come out of all this agony?

It doesn’t dissolve all of Haru’s anxieties, but it comforts him to know there is some kind of hope he can cling on to. He can’t tame every emotion relating to his plans for tonight, but he thinks he can deal with this one. He takes a deep breath, then exhales.

“Come on,” says Haru. “We’re done here. Let’s get you to your bus stop.”

Sousuke hauls his bag over his shoulder, looking warily relieved. “So… This thing—it’s why you lost sleep last night?”

Haru gives a curt nod.

“I’m guessing Rin knows?” asks Sousuke as they start walking.

“He has an idea. He doesn’t know I’m planning to talk to Makoto today, though.” Haru glances at Sousuke, meets his eyes. “Don’t say anything.”

"Ah." Realisation dawns on Sousuke's face as he realises what Haru has been going on about. His lips pinch and his brow furrows as he nods to promise; Haru sighs and wishes Sousuke wasn't this serious, because his silence is making their walk to the bus stop unbelievably awkward. Haru guesses no one ever goes to Sousuke for relationship advice—Haru now has a good idea why. Granted, Sousuke has a boyfriend who does a far better job. Not that Haru will regularly approach Rin for advice; it’s just nice to know he’s there, if needed.

“Haru—wait. You don’t have to take me to the bus stop. Kisumi made me remember landmarks yesterday.”

“Fine. Where do you go from here?” asks Haru, coming to a stop.

Sousuke stalls, looking around. They’re on a footpath in the park area of the facility, a little ways away from the main building. The spot where they gathered yesterday is on the other side of the building, and the easiest way to get there would be through the lobby.

Seconds pass.

“Can I use my phone?” asks Sousuke quietly.

Haru buries his face into his palm. He’s convinced that this, right here, is his most incompetent friend.

***

Actually, maybe _this_ is Haru’s most incompetent friend.

“I mean,” says Makoto as he washes his hands, getting ready for dinner, “I think I have an idea, but I wanted to see what you had to say first.”

Haru tries to quell his irritation.

‘I know what you want to talk about’ had been the first thing Makoto said when he came striding into Haru’s apartment that evening, and Haru almost shot out of his skin when he heard it, until Makoto proceeded to ramble on about an exchange between Gou and Rei the previous day.

Makoto is incredulously bad at reading the situation when the time calls for it.

“I didn’t think too much about it,” says Haru, his patience fraying. “Actually, I don’t even remember what they said.”

“Haru.” Makoto backs up against the edge of the sink. “I think Gou meant to say ‘boyfriend’. She probably was calling Rei ‘the world’s best boyfriend’.”

Now Haru is listening. “What? Rei and Gou?” he breathes, thinking of a breakfast in Sydney and courgettes being abused in a frying pan. “Does Rin know?”

“ _No_ ,” Makoto crumples at the knees, “Rei and Nagisa, Haru. Pay attention.”

“Sorry—run me through it again?”

“Rei had sent Nagisa to the station, Gou asked if Nagisa was chased by fans, and Rei said no, because he was there with Nagisa, then Gou said something like ‘sure, because you’re the world’s best—”

“—boyfriend’,” finishes Haru, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah. Except she didn’t actually say it. She went ‘ack’, then kept apologising to Rei. It really seemed like Gou was on the verge of accidentally outing Rei.”

Haru regards Makoto’s frown, trying to read his thoughts on the situation. “You’re not squeamish about it, are you?” hazards Haru, heart pounding even though he has a good guess this isn’t the case.

“Of course not,” says Makoto, breaking out into a protracted sigh. “I’m just worried, mainly about how Nagisa’s job isn’t the most forgiving when it comes to romantic relationships.” Makoto’s voice falls. “I don’t want them to get hurt.” 

“I hear you.” Haru motions for Makoto to make way so he can get to the rice cooker. “It’s Rei and Nagisa, though. I don’t think it was a rash decision. Nagisa’s spontaneous, but he’s not thoughtless.”

“True,” says Makoto, going to the shelf where Haru stores the bowls. “And Rei has probably extrapolated a thousand possible outcomes and counteractions for what happens if they ever get found out, huh?”

Haru nods. “Yes.”

Makoto places the bowls on the worktop beside the sink. “You’re taking this very… evenly.”

“Hm?” Haru puts out his hand for the rice bowls, which Makoto hands to him.

“You’re not fazed by the idea of Nagisa and Rei being together?”

“No,” says Haru, “considering Nagisa practically wooed Rei into joining the swimming club.”

There’s a bout of silence, and Haru looks over to Makoto to check if he’s okay. He’s fiddling with his thumb, applying pressure on his nail bed with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He’s hesitating, Haru can tell, but about what exactly, Haru is finding it hard to tell. Nagisa and Rei? Haru’s thoughts on gay relationships?

Haru freezes. What if Makoto is trying to test Haru? To confirm if Haru’s okay-with-gay? What if _Makoto’s_ not-okay-with-gay?

_Shit._

“Are _you_ surprised?” asks Haru, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and he tries to keep his hand steady as he spoons rice into the other rice bowl. _Concentrate on the conversation,_ Haru tells himself. It’s the only way he can stop feeling sick.

“Mm, no. Not at all.” Makoto looks up from his fingers. “I kind of had a feeling when Rei and Gou announced they were going to share a flat. I knew they were close, but for them to actually live together—it had to have made undeniable sense to them, because tell me, how many Japanese kids do you know would be willing to share a place, one-on-one, with a member of the opposite sex they’re merely friends with?”

Haru shakes his head. “Rumour would be rife. Especially for the girl.”

“Right? Not that it isn’t already—my mum was too-casually asking me if Rei and Gou are ‘doing all right’ when she visited me with Ran and Ren.”

“I know. Mikoshiba-san asked me too. Said he heard it from his younger brother. He looked like he was going to cry.”

Makoto assembles two pairs of chopsticks. “I can’t really put a finger on why Gou would make that decision, even if she knew Rei wouldn’t lay a finger on her. Not saying that the decision’s a bad one. It’s just that reputation-wise, she’s got a lot more to lose.”

Haru gives this some thought. “I don’t think Gou’s the kind of person who cares very much about things like that. She was a high schooler ogling muscles everywhere she went. I think that alone earned her some raised eyebrows.”

Makoto laughs. “You have a point. She was completely unabashed. Still is, actually, except now with the viewfinder she gets away with a lot.”

“Exactly.” Haru starts ladling soup into bowls.

“Anyway,” says Makoto, as he steps out of the kitchen area to bring the chopsticks and the bowls of rice to the low table, “all of this is speculation. We won’t know for sure until they tell us.”

“If they choose to tell us,” reminds Haru. “But if it’s true that Rei and Nagisa are together, it’ll also prove Gou’s giving them some kind of support. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, since she’s there.”

Makoto nods. “You’re right. Gou is probably the strongest-willed out of all of us, we really can’t forget that.” He straightens and goes back to the kitchen to help with the soup. “Thanks, Haru. I feel a lot better after talking things through with you.”

Haru gives a terse smile as his remembers his true purpose of inviting Makoto over. For all his earlier impatience, he now realises he doesn’t know when to broach the subject. “It’s a weird pairing for kenchinjiru, but I have a tin of mackerel green curry left over from my trip to Sydney. Want some?” he says instead.

Makoto’s face lights up, as expected. “May I?” he asks cutely as he returns to the low table, and Haru has to smile. He crouches to look in the cupboard under the stove, hunting for the tin of fish.

“Haru…” Makoto lounges on the floor, his arms propped up behind him, tilting his chin towards Haru’s desk. “When did you get that lamp?”

“Two weeks ago, I think.”

Makoto hums. “I really haven’t been here in a while,” he says, sounding forlorn. He pushes up from the floor and his cushion to come and stand beside Haru. “Your training camp with Shimogaku starts Wednesday, right? Will Ikuya be there?”

“Yeah, but Shimogaku’s only coming in the second half. It’s just Takadai for the first few days.”

“Oh? That’s new.”

“Mm. Everyone on the team is going to be around for the first half, but the combined practice is only for the first-years from both schools. It’s run by the second-years so the upperclassmen aren’t involved.”

"I see. Where is it again?”

“Chiba. By the ocean.”

“That’s not too far away.” Makoto’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “At least check your phone this time, okay?”

Training camp means ten long days away from Makoto, another spell of procrastination Haru isn’t sure he can suffer through. It’s the main reason why Haru’s picked tonight. It’s taken much candid self-introspection, but Haru has finally realised he’s been schlepping through these emotions since _February_. He thinks it’s a combination of Makoto coming to look after him when he got sick, subsequently accelerated by the whole business with Kai. It’s such a cliche, Haru thinks, to fall for someone when they care for you at your weakest, but Haru now sees why it’s so easy. Not that Makoto hasn’t cared for Haru when he was sick before—he’s even looked after Haru when Haru _wasn’t_ sick—but Haru reckons a lot of it had to do with being completely helpless in a city full of strangers where, miraculously, there also lives someone who is willing to come over to save you even though there are all sorts of disgusting bodily fluids spewing out of you from both ends.

“I will.” Haru doesn’t mean for his voice to come out as a croak.

“Ah! You’ll be spending your birthday there,” Makoto goes on. “We won’t be the same age again until November!”

“As it is every year,” says Haru, and almost drops the saucepan he’s holding under the tap when Makoto comes almost nose-to-nose with him.

“Wait—your dark eye circles are terrible, did you not get enough sleep last night?” asks Makoto, eyebrows drawing together. “Sorry, Haru, I should’ve noticed earlier… I’ve been rambling on and on the whole time I’ve been here—you must be so tired, and you’ve even made a meal!”

Stepping away from Makoto, Haru places the saucepan onto the hob and switches on the flame. “Makoto.” His pulse is throbbing at the base of his throat. He thinks he might vomit. Where is his sickie bag?

“Hm?”

“Go sit down.”

“Huh?”

“Go sit down,” Haru repeats.

Makoto, looking bewildered, does as he’s told. Haru follows him. They sit on adjacent sides of the low table, Haru breaking out in a sweat.

“I didn’t ask you over to talk about Rei and Nagisa,” is Haru’s terrifyingly weak opening. “It’s something else.”

There’s a shift in Makoto’s countenance; he looks worried now. “Haru… Is everything okay?”

 _Shit. What’s next._ Haru didn’t think this through. _Should’ve prepared a speech._ Haru fists his hands on his knees and bites the insides of his cheeks.

“Ah,” says Makoto, pointing to the stove behind Haru, a merry bubbling sound coming from the saucepan it’s harbouring. “The water.”

Cursing under his breath, Haru gets to his feet and goes to the stove, where he lowers four-fifths of the tin of mackerel into the boiling water before switching off the flame. He scurries back to the low table and folds his legs under him again, heart thumping. He can do this. He’s going to do this.

“Haru, maybe we should cover the food first.”

Haru gapes at Makoto. He wants to smack Makoto for not reading the room, but he also wants to smack himself for his ridiculous timing. Who the fuck confesses right before dinner?

Makoto cocks his head. “Haru?”

“There’s someone I like,” blurts Haru, and Makoto’s eyes go impossibly wide. The seconds slip by as they stare at each other, unmoving. Haru doesn’t even dare breathe, doesn’t even dare blink.

“Um, so - so I guess this isn’t about you being worked up over the All-Japan?” Makoto eventually manages to choke out, blushing an impressive scarlet. “Is it - is it someone I know?” His voice is shaky, breathy around the edges.

Haru wishes for a cliff so he can launch himself off it. This was a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea, especially when Makoto is currently at his thickest.

But there’s no backing out now. Haru pitches his face into his hands and sighs, trying to work up the nerve. It’s seconds before he looks up and fists his hands on his knees again, feeling his nails dig into his palms.

“It’s you, Makoto.”

Makoto goes very still. Then—

“Huh?” is all he says.

Haru’s lungs can’t keep up with his heart, his face is on fire, his palms are damp, and as he gets to his feet his knees buckle. “The curry,” Haru tells Makoto feebly, raising a crooked finger at the stove. He just needs something to do, something to break the tension.

Haru plucks his oven mitt off a hook that’s stuck to the side of the fridge; he gingerly touches the top of the tin with his fingertips. He was careful not to submerge it, so the top isn’t too hot. His hands are trembling; he sticks his left one into the mitt, then lifts the tin out of the water with his right. Holding the base of the tin with the hand in the oven mitt, he tries to get a finger under the tab. It takes him a few tries. Haru pries the tab off the lid, a soft pop sounding as the lid gets punctured. He pulls. Nothing happens. The lid doesn’t come off. His hands. His hands are trembling. Haru places the tin on the worktop and leans against the sink, gripping its edge.

Oh god. What has he done—

Fingers gently curl around Haru’s wrist; Haru draws a sharp breath as Makoto pulls the oven mitt off Haru’s hand, gloves it onto his own, and proceeds to take the lid off the tin. He puts the curry down on the worktop, then returns the oven mitt to the side of the fridge. Haru doesn’t dare look at him. They simply stand there, staring into the sink.

Haru closes his eyes, feeling his heart ache.

He wants him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDD
> 
> I'm excited to post the next chapter especially since it's Valentine's on Sunday :D


	12. Many Maketh Sunshine

“No, considering Nagisa practically wooed Rei into joining the swimming club,” says Haru, and Makoto realises the enormity of the insight he’s gaining.

When Makoto started talking to Haru about Nagisa, Rei and Gou, he began with the sole idea of confiding in Haru something that weighed on his mind, nothing more. He was genuinely concerned for Nagisa and Rei, mainly because he’d experienced the effects of Nagisa’s popularity firsthand. Maybe it was an effect of getting older, or maybe it was because they were all in Tokyo now and he felt more emotionally attached to his friends, but Makoto was being more of a mum than ever—this, he was keenly aware of.

What Makoto didn’t expect was for Haru to view Nagisa and Rei being together as something so natural, he didn’t even falter when Makoto started explaining his posit. There wasn’t a shred of discomfort, or any extraneous questions. It was a conversation as normal as any other.

It’s never struck Makoto to talk to Haru about girls—or boys, for that matter—because he’s never experienced that sort of attraction. Makoto always assumed he’d talk to Haru about it when the time came, except the time never did.

The closest they’ve come to talking about romance one-on-one was a few months ago, when Makoto had to expressly reveal to Haru he wasn’t interested in Kai. Makoto doesn’t know if that counts as ‘talking about romance’, however, since technically he talked about a lack of it. As for other times... Technically, when they had their first training camp in high school Haru had confessed, at Nagisa’s behest, that he fell in love with a waterfall—Makoto didn’t want to discount that, especially because he knew Haru was being serious, so he tried to be as respectful of the sentiment as he could. It also helped Makoto believe that Haru was a late bloomer, just like he was, and he took comfort in that solidarity. Another time was during their third year of high school, when Rei was taking secret swimming lessons with Rin and Coach Sasabe convinced most of them Rei was involved with someone romantically, and Gou even suspected Rei was in love with the track team’s captain. Haru didn’t seem to buy into any of these ideas, but in retrospect that was mainly because Rei was fastidious and preoccupied with swimming, so it was likely not because Haru deemed Rei a poor candidate for romance.

Today, Makoto is finding out Haru might have picked up on Nagisa and Rei much, much earlier than he did. Which can only mean Haru has been accepting of same-sex relationships for a while now, and why is this making Makoto so pleased yet nervous at the same time?

Makoto shelves those thoughts for later; they're having a conversation.

There's no real conclusion to the matter at hand, but Haru assures Makoto that if Rei and Nagisa truly are together, at least they’re having some sort of support from Gou. It does comfort Makoto a great deal to be reminded that for all he’s worried about, those kids aren’t dealing with this alone—they have each other.

“Thanks, Haru,” says Makoto, making sure it sounds as heartfelt as he feels. “I feel a lot better after talking things through with you.”

Haru gives him a small smile, and—he knows it’s sappy, but he can’t help it—Makoto’s world lights up. They’ve not seen each other in a while, Makoto realises. This is the first time in weeks Makoto is getting to spend time with Haru like this. He misses it. 

“It’s a weird pairing for kenchinjiru, but I have a tin of mackerel green curry left over from my trip to Sydney. Want some?” offers Haru.

Green curry—his favourite. He remembers Haru texting him about this particular tin of mackerel when he was in Australia, and his smile gets wider. “May I?” answers Makoto, more buoyantly than he intended.

Haru smiles again. Makoto’s heart swells.

There’s a new lamp on Haru’s desk, and when Makoto asks Haru about it he finds himself vocalising how long he hasn’t been over. He hopes he doesn’t come across as too motherly—Haru himself has called Makoto out on his coddling ways—but as he thinks this he gets up and walks over to where Haru is, quizzing him about his upcoming training camp, pointing out how he’s going to have his twentieth birthday away from home and, when Makoto gets close enough to see Haru has dark circles under his eyes, he immediately feels bad about not noticing them sooner. Haru had a swim meet today, Makoto recalls in horror. He must be so tired, and he’s even gone out of his way to make dinner.

Of course, Haru gets cross with him and shuts him up, asking him to go sit down instead. He feels a little bit like a dog being commanded to return to its kennel, but then he realises Haru is following him. They sit down, Makoto cross-legged and Haru, for some reason, in a kneel, his fingertips white against his thighs.

“I didn’t ask you over to talk about Rei and Nagisa.” Haru is looking grave, restrained. “It’s something else.”

Makoto had asked earlier how the tournament went, and Haru just muttered a generic ‘we lost to Sousuke’s school’. He feels a sinking in his gut as he asks Haru if he’s okay. The upcoming All-Japan Invitational is Haru’s first national meet of the year, and while Makoto thinks Haru is more prepared for it than not, he also knows Haru has a habit of letting his apprehensions get the better of him at the last minute—what if today’s loss has been yet another blow to his spirits? Makoto faces Haru, feeling sorry. What kind of trainer is he aspiring to be, if he can’t even pick up on his best friend’s uneasiness?

A sound catches Makoto’s attention, and he points to the saucepan boiling on the stove; Haru gets up to switch the flame off. Makoto watches as Haru settles the tin of curry into the water. So that’s what the water was for. It’s a neat trick, Makoto thinks, although he wonders why Haru doesn’t just put the curry into a bowl and heat it up with the microwave like how his mother does.

Haru comes back and, sitting on his ankles, assumes his formal stance once more. Makoto remembers Nao-senpai mentioning during one of their training sessions that it’s important to try and obtain the clearest picture of the athlete’s mind before making your move—Makoto thus decides to wait for the athlete in front of him to say something instead of trying to butt in.

A full minute passes. Makoto knows, because there’s a clock by Haru’s bed and he can see it from here, its digital seconds recording each moment of silence. Beside them lie bowls of soup and rice, steam wafting off their surfaces. Makoto then spots a fly zooming in from the kitchen, and he watches as it makes its way towards the food. He waves it away just before it skims the top of the rice.

Makoto has to give up; he’s butting in. “Haru, maybe we should cover the food first.”

The look that comes upon Haru’s face is one of indignant confusion; he seems almost offended that Makoto has dared to speak. But Makoto only meets his look with a blank defiance—it’s perfectly justified that he spoke; Haru made this meal for both of them and Makoto isn’t letting some fly that’s probably been in someone’s toilet bowl touch any of it.

Haru doesn’t move, and his expression doesn’t change. Makoto calls his name to make sure he’s still there.

“There’s someone I like,” says Haru, out of the blue. 

Makoto’s world goes dim.

_Haru likes someone?_

Makoto tries to quieten his pulse, and considers the words Haru has chosen. _There’s someone I like._ Okay. Haru’s use of the word ‘like’ is unequivocal, intentional. So Haru’s in love with someone. Makoto’s okay with that, right? He’s okay with that. It was bound to happen sooner or later, Haru liking someone. Finding someone.

“I guess… This isn’t about you being worked up over the All-Japan?” Makoto somehow finds it in himself to say something. “Is it… Someone I know?”

As soon as he says this, in his mind’s eye flash images of Haru sitting in a kayak, of him at dinner with group of guys, of him looking unimpressed as Rin hooks an arm around his neck, grinning into the camera.

Heat rises in Makoto’s cheeks as malaise curdles in his veins, something ugly and once-familiar trying to claw its way out of his heart. No. He’s not going to let himself feel this way. It’s fine. Even if it’s Rin, it’s fine. Makoto loves Rin too. He really does.

Makoto watches as Haru covers his face while he sighs. Haru being shy is _adorable_ , and Makoto hates himself for thinking that at a time like this, when they’re standing at the edge of a wall and one of them is about to fall away.

Haru takes his hands off his face and meets Makoto’s eyes.

“It’s you, Makoto.”

The world goes dark, and Makoto takes the fall—into a sudden burst of light.

“Huh?” he hears himself saying, the most feckless he’s ever said anything in his life. He watches Haru stand and walk to the stove. Makoto feels numb, and by the looks of it, so does Haru, because he’s swaying on his feet as he travels the two metres.

Wait.

The gears finally kick in, and Makoto feels like his synapses are firing too fast for him to keep up. Haru likes him. Haru likes _him_. Not somebody else.

_Him._

There’s an immense, intense emotion proliferating within Makoto, simultaneously joyous and nauseating in its thrill. Does he like Haru? 

_Of course_ , Makoto thinks, his heartbeat fiercely present in his temples. He’s always liked Haru. He’s even told Haru to his face that he likes Haru. He’s told _his parents_ he likes Haru. _Everyone_ knows he likes Haru.

But does he _like_ Haru?

Makoto doesn’t know.

Does he _want to like_ Haru?

Makoto claps a hand across his mouth, a tremulous sigh warming his palm. Whatever happened to feelings that were already perfect? What is he supposed to say to Haru now? Is his silence making Haru uncomfortable? It has to, because Haru is—Haru is having trouble with that tin of curry. Haru’s hands are shaking. He’s having _a lot_ of trouble opening that tin.

Moving on autopilot, Makoto gets up from the floor. He only has one thing on his mind: go open the tin so Haru doesn’t have to. Go open the tin, so Haru can stop shaking.

He goes to stand beside Haru, and wraps his hand around Haru’s left wrist before tugging off the oven mitt that’s sheathing Haru’s hand. He puts it on to shield himself from the hot part of the tin, pulls the lid off it, returns the oven mitt to where he saw Haru get it from, and stands idly by the sink.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do next. He feels like he should apologise for being slow and indecisive and spineless, but he doesn’t want it to make it sound like he’s rejecting Haru. He doesn’t want Haru to get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want Haru to assume he’s upset. Makoto is not upset. Far from it. He’s just… at a loss, because he’s so inexperienced, so surprised, so _inept_. Whatever he says next will either make Haru understand his feelings or misunderstand them.

So—what does he want to say? What does he want for them?

“Let’s eat,” says Haru suddenly, voice soft, and Makoto turns to look at him. Haru doesn’t meet his eyes; he picks up the curry and heads for the table once more. Makoto can only follow.

It’s a quiet dinner. Heads are kept down and gazes are avoided.

It’s the longest 15 minutes of Makoto’s life.

He looks down at his last mouthful of soup. When this is finished, he’ll have to say something. He _wants_ to say something, because Haru has been brave and honest and all Makoto has done is to open a tin of curry. He feels dreadful.

“Makoto.” Haru’s eyes hide behind his fringe, and he’s putting down his chopsticks very quietly. “It’s okay if you don’t want things to change.”

“No.” The word tumbles out of Makoto even before he imagines it, and there’s so much else he wants to say, but he’s experiencing an inopportune dearth of eloquence.

Between Haru and himself, Makoto has always been the gutless one. He’s lost count of the number of amusement park haunted houses and horror movies he’s survived only by hiding behind Haru, the times he’s chickened out from breaking hard truths to his family and friends, choosing to shift responsibility to Haru instead. Sometimes Haru indulges him, but this is one matter that Makoto has to tackle on his own because Haru’s the one he’s facing here.

But how is he supposed to, when there’s such poverty of thought? When there are so many blanks to fill? When his source of courage is the very thing that is challenging him?

Makoto abandons his seat and comes to perch on his knees, right behind Haru. He places his hands on Haru’s shoulders; Haru bristles at the contact, but Makoto needs this, needs to feel anchored.

“I don’t know how I feel,” says Makoto, the syllables wobbling on his voice, “or how to answer you.” _This is unbearable_ , Makoto thinks. He sounds so clumsy.

Haru dips his head, making no sound.

“I’ve never been in love,” whispers Makoto, feeling every pulse his heart is drumming out with every fibre of his being. _Finish the sentence._ “I don’t know how it feels like.” Makoto leaves it at that, running into another articulatory dead-end.

It takes a while for Haru to speak.

“Neither have I,” Haru whispers back, “but I think it might feel like the way I feel with you.”

Makoto jaw goes slack and his hands slip from Haru’s shoulders, the gravity of Haru’s words knocking him back on his haunches. Slowly, Haru manoeuvres himself away from the table so he’s facing Makoto, and they look at each other, the air between them heavy, inert. 

Makoto searches Haru’s gaze with his own. What else is left for him to say?

_Be brave._

Perhaps nothing.

Very slowly, Makoto gets to his feet; he then reaches out, offering Haru his hand.

Haru’s eyes widen; his line of vision first settles on Makoto’s outstretched hand, then flits up to his face.

Makoto gives Haru a tiny smile. “Haru-chan.”

As his lips part in a breath, Haru grasps Makoto’s fingers; he lets Makoto pull him up to his feet, and Makoto wastes no time drawing him into his arms. He holds Haru close, feeling Haru's weight against his chest, and temporarily ignores the thousand questions that spawn a thousand more; he presses his cheek against Haru’s hair, wondering if Haru can feel the heat in his face, the thudding of his heart. Haru’s hands are brands on Makoto's shoulder blades, his fingers digging grooves into them. His nose bumps against Makoto’s Adam’s apple; Makoto can feel Haru’s breath on his skin, warm and ticklish.

Makoto wants to say Haru’s name again, just to make sure Haru knows what this hug means, but shyness knots his tongue—he gulps nervously, making Haru laugh against his throat.

“Don’t,” complains Makoto, knowing Haru is revelling in his embarrassment.

Haru buries his face further into Makoto’s neck. “I’m embarrassed too,” he says, before moving his elbows higher to clutch Makoto’s shoulders. Makoto responds by tightening his hold around Haru.

They’ve never hugged like this before. 

Now that he has an idea of what he wants, Makoto’s thoughts are clearer; language stops failing him. “I feel like everything and nothing is going to change,” he confesses.

“Same,” says Haru, pushing against Makoto’s chest so he can better look at him, but Makoto isn’t prepared. He hurriedly presses Haru’s face back into the crook of his shoulder. Haru actually laughs out loud this time. “Makoto?” comes his muffled response.

“I want you to be happy.” Makoto drops his hand from Haru’s head to rest it on the small of Haru’s back, trying to rein in a stark, burgeoning fear—one rooted in stigma, in a lack of sexual potency. “I don’t feel like I’m enough to make you happy.”

Haru stills. Seconds lapse before he responds. “I’ve always been happy with you. To me that means I’ll always be.”

Blushing fiercely, Makoto steps back, felling his gaze so he doesn’t have to look at Haru yet; he drops his head to crush his face against Haru’s shirt. “I didn’t think we needed change, Haru.”

“Mm. I know. But nothing actually has to. We’re still us.”

“Do you think being together like this is going to make us happier?”

“Hopefully?”

“Why are you answering it as a question?”

“Because no one knows for sure.” Haru pauses. “But I know I want it to.”

Makoto’s hand finds Haru’s, and he clings on. He feels Haru’s fingers lace through his own. 

“How do I know what I want from this?” Makoto may sound incoherent to anyone else, but he trusts Haru to understand what he’s asking. “How do _you_ know?”

Haru breathes a laugh. “I’m not telling you."

“Haru…” Makoto lets himself whine.

“I have my answers. You figure out yours by yourself.”

Makoto hums, admitting defeat. He lets his forehead linger a little longer on Haru’s shoulder before self-consciousness gets the better of him. “Haru? This is embarrassing,” he says, tapping the small of Haru’s back.

“Only this?” quips Haru.

Makoto laughs, and draws back to hold Haru by the arms, finally looking at his face. Makoto’s never seen Haru go this dark a shade of pink before—but Haru’s expression is mutinous, as if he’s trying to conquer his shyness by willpower alone. Makoto marvels at his determination.

“Just so we’re clear,” says Haru, after a moment of staring, “I’m still not cool with you saying my name with a ‘-chan’, so. Drop it.”

Makoto gapes, then crumples onto the floor in a fit of giggles.

Some things are definitely going to stay the same, and Makoto thinks he’ll be okay with it.

***

Four days into his newfound status as Haru’s significant other Makoto doesn’t feel like he’s walking on air, or that he’s got more reason to smile, or that he’s looking forward to seeing Haru any more than usual after school. To Makoto, this is just another Wednesday, another day as a university student.

His feet come to a stuttering stop when he gets to his usual spot at the library and sees Kai stroking Saotome’s back soothingly as he hunches over the tabletop and cries into a bunch of tissues, admirably quiet. Kai is looking thoroughly mortified and she is currently holding up a piece of paper likely ripped from her notebook that has the words ‘NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND’ written on it. Makoto sees a group of students at the neighbouring table read the sign and start to snigger. He doesn’t blame them; it _is_ kind of funny, but he still finds the need to give Kai a reproachful glance.

“What happened?” asks Makoto.

Kai’s lower lip extends sideways in a wince; she leans backwards and jabs her pointer at Saotome as he gurgles at Makoto’s question, clapping more tissues over his swollen eyes.

 _He got dumped_ , mouths Kai, her eyes dramatically wide. _This morning!_

Makoto did toy with the idea of telling his friends he got into a relationship over the weekend, but any ounce of the possibility of that happening has just been thrown out the window.

In a hushed conversation with Kai out of Saotome’s earshot, Makoto finds out Saotome’s girlfriend broke up with him because she considered him ‘too dedicated’ and it felt like he was smothering her. Makoto doesn’t think Saotome did anything wrong, but he shelves the thought for future reference.

Saotome tears up at practically everything the rest of the day—the lecturer bidding them goodbye at the end of class, Kai realising out loud she’s lost a shirt button, a movie ticket stub he finds in his wallet when he’s paying for lunch. Makoto buys Saotome a coffee, hoping he’ll feel better, but Saotome cries at that as well.

“What should we do?” groans Kai, when Saotome excuses himself to the toilets to wash his face.

“We baby him for as long as he needs,” says Makoto, firmly.

Kai groans again. “I’m not very good with fragile people that need to be emotionally babied!”

“Come on, Kai. You’re a big sister, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I never had to baby my siblings! My brothers came out of the womb with fully-developed sentiences and perfectly formed, non-babylike bodies that were only slightly smaller than my own.”

Makoto stares at Kai. “No, they did not.”

“They did _not_ ,” agrees Kai as she gives a sweeping nod, her arm flourishing past her chest, "but that’s how I remember my childhood, so no—no big sister.”

“Fine. I’ll teach you.”

“ _Dude_.”

“Man up, Kai,” advises Makoto coolly, not standing for any of Kai’s protests. “Saotome-kun needs us.”

They’re completely attentive to Saotome the rest of the day, pampering him with distractions like revision quizzes (they’re such nerds, but semester finals are coming) and funny videos from Kai’s Twitter bookmarks. Everything is a gamble, however, because they never know what’s going to trigger Saotome’s tear ducts, and they hurriedly exit a video of a penguin slapping another penguin facedown into thin ice when Saotome says that was one of Yumi’s favourites.

After their last class they head to the courtyard, finding a bench to hang out; Saotome confides in them that he might have to quit his part-time job if Yumi doesn’t, because he doesn’t know how he can continue being her co-worker now that they’re broken up. It makes Makoto feel very sorry for Saotome, and he doesn’t know what he can say to make him feel better so he offers Saotome a side hug, which Saotome takes awkwardly but gratefully. Kai just dithers around them, and her relief is far too obvious when Saotome tells them he wants to go home and lie down for a bit; Makoto shoots her a disapproving look as she chirps a sprightly ‘okay!’; Kai then sort of makes up for it by ruffling Saotome’s hair and telling him he’s her favourite fencer and she loves him. Saotome bursts into tears and says ‘thank you' before leaving.

“For someone who’s helped me work through a lot of sensitive stuff about sexuality you sure are one of the most obtuse people when it comes to helping people deal with their breakups,” murmurs Makoto to Kai as they wave goodbye to Saotome’s retreating back, putting on their most supportive smiles when he looks over his shoulder and raises a hand weakly to acknowledge them.

“Makoto,” Kai turns her overdone smile on Makoto, “I’m good at being queer, not at romantic relationships. Those, I’m kind of shit at.”

There’s something about this statement that Makoto finds worthy of investigation. “Last time I checked, you had no relationship experience. How do you know you’re shit?”

Kai clamps her mouth shut. Makoto folds his arms and eyes her suspiciously, and for a fleeting moment he sees, in his mind’s eye, him and Ran 10 years down the road in this exact position talking about the exact same thing.

“Fine,” Kai hisses. “I’ve been using an app to meet girls. To every one I’ve dated I’ve been committing the emotional equivalent of a hit-and-run.”

“A what?”

“I meet them being fairly into them, and as the date wears on I appear passive and disinterested, and by the end of the date I pretend they’re not quite there. They never call me back.”

Makoto gawks, horrified. “That’s so off-brand for you, I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know, right?!”

“Kai, you don’t get to be surprised!”

“But I _am_ surprised! That sort of behaviour is _callous_ , I didn’t even know I had it in me.” Kai seats herself on the bench, and motions for Makoto to join her.

“So why would you even do that?”

“I dunno, pressure? It’s easier to run away if I know they don’t like me?”

Makoto is baffled. “Why don’t you want them to like you if you’re trying to date them?”

Kai shrugs. “I meet them, see how cool and kind they are and stuff—and they’re all aware I’m sex-repulsed, mind you, so it’s like, hardcore woke chicks—and I think: ‘Fuck, if I invest myself in this I’ll never be able to measure up, because they’re already so much stronger.’ So I elect to chicken out.”

“Why do you think you won’t be able to measure up?” asks Makoto, feeling almost distraught. Kai is one of his favourite people who has shown remarkable verve in the face of some very difficult situations, and it’s such dissonance to hear she’s putting herself down like that.

Kai looks stumped at the question. It takes a few moments for her to arrive at an answer. “Uh, because it’s my default setting?”

Makoto can’t wrap his head around how someone as self-confident as Kai can have such a deprecating evaluation of themselves. “Kai, you know you don’t actually have to measure up to anyone, right?”

“I know, I know,” Kai waves a hand in front of her face, “I’m my own person and all that. I get that. But we’d all be lying if we say we’ve never taken comfort in the thought of ourselves being better than someone at something. I kind of didn’t have that comfort as a kid, so it’s hard to convince myself I can do this relationship thing without having the upper hand.”

Makoto tries to digest everything Kai has said. “What happened when you were a kid?” asks Makoto. As far as he knows, Kai has athletes for parents, who also were her first coaches in her sport; as such she hails from some kind of water polo royal family, and they even have their own pool (granted, it’s part of their business, so it’s not like they’re actually royalty); and her family is incredibly close. Judging from how Kai and her brother act, it doesn’t seem like their parents are the sort who impose their ideals on their children, either. Kai couldn’t have had a messy childhood.

Kai plays with the hem of her shirt. “You know how it’s like to grow up with someone who’s like, really good at the thing they do best to a point where it’s not just you, but everyone else is sort of in their shadow?”

Makoto gives a slow nod. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Kai squints for a bit. “Ah, Haru?”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s kinda different. I mean—his specialty is free, right? Imagine you also swam that. Or, like, you have the exact same set of skills, preferences and interests and you end up in his class every single year and everything he does is just obviously better.” Kai sighs. “I dunno, most of the time I knew I couldn’t be better than Tachibana so I made people believe I was simply failing to put in the effort. I didn’t want them to know I lacked the potential to match up. I don’t feel that way about him anymore since we’re grownups now, but I think the fear has taken up residence in other aspects of my life.”

This makes Makoto wonder if things would be any different should he have chosen to specialise in freestyle instead of backstroke. Was his decision to swim backstroke a result of his relief in being able to look at the sky instead of the depths of the pool, or was it a choice made so as to avoid locking horns with Haru in competition? It could’ve been both, Makoto realises. He certainly remembers watching Haru finish a race far ahead of everyone and thinking how he was glad he wasn’t a participant. He starts thinking about the things that separate him and Haru: they have opposite temperaments, he won’t die without mackerel, Haru is good at art and he’s not—it’s actually a pretty long list. If they were more similar, Makoto can imagine how it could’ve altered his friendship with Haru.

“Don’t worry,” Kai turns to Makoto, smiling broadly, “I’ll figure something out. I know my dates can’t continue being the suck-fests they are. I don’t like wasting other people’s time.”

Makoto nods. “Okay. Just… Be yourself, Kai.”

Kai’s smile turns a little warmer. “Yeah. Thanks. Anyway, it was really decent of you for picking up my slack today, with Sacchon.” Kai smacks Makoto lightly on the shoulder. “I can talk people through the maybes of one-sided love and unrequited feelings, but breakups are out of my league. I never know what to say, it’s too much like mourning.”

“You know, I’ve never helped anyone through a breakup before.”

“Really? You were such a pro, though.”

“Well, you’ve made a good point about breakups and mourning. I think when you know what it feels like to experience comfort while grieving someone, you have a pretty good idea how that sort of support feels like.”

Kai puts on a guilty face. “I hope I didn’t remind you of something sad.”

“Not really,” says Makoto. “Did I ever tell you why I’m not very good with the ocean?”

Kai shakes her head, and Makoto goes on to explain his history with the sea, how he lost his fisherman friend, how Haru stuck by him during the funeral procession. When he gets to the part about his goldfish dying, Kai places her hand over her heart and reclines her head over the backrest of the bench.

“I was just a child, but I remember how scared I was, and how much it meant that Haru was there for me.” Makoto cheeks flush warm as he recalls Haru is with him in another way now; you’d think that you’ll actually remember you’re official on Day Three of your new relationship, but apparently there are moments in which you forget and it makes you self-conscious.

“You know, Makoto, someone should make a show out of your life. It’ll make a lot of money. There’s gonna be backstories and mostly-naked swimmer dudes, and everyone’s going to ship you and Haru.”

Makoto snorts. “Stop teasing me. I’m telling you all this so you can be a better friend to Saotome-kun during this difficult time of bereavement.”

“…You sound like you’re teasing him.”

“Maybe a little,” admits Makoto.

“Anyway.” Kai lifts her wrist to check her watch. “I have practice in forty-five minutes. You? Trainer training?”

“Yup, but later in the evening. Haru’s coming over at four before he heads to Chiba for a training camp.”

“Four, huh? I think I can at least hang around to say hi. I haven’t seen Haru since Kisumi’s game night.”

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Makoto smiles at the memory. It was nice to have two groups of friends who had him as the common denominator interact.

“Yeah, I got to see a side of you I didn’t expect to.”

“Oh?”

“You were so competitive.” Kai laughs. “Sacchon and I were looking at each other like, ‘Is this Makoto?’ You were downright _cunning_. We were shocked.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t win. Haru did.”

“Oh, yeah. Merciless. He didn’t even give _you_ face, during the last round he played the Assassin so he could kill your character and you couldn’t take your turn. It’s like he read your mind and knew exactly who you were going to pick.”

“Sounds about right.”

The thought of telling Kai that he and Haru are together now crosses Makoto’s mind; this would actually be an opportune moment. But Makoto hasn’t yet spoken with Haru about whether it’s okay to tell other people, so he stays silent.

Coincidentally, their phones buzz at the same time; they draw them out to check their messages.

“Haru’s here,” says Makoto, surprised. “He’s early. I’m going to ask him to meet us here.” Makoto sends Haru his location and throws Kai a glance; she’s frowning as she types something up on her phone.

“Makoto, this is a big deal, right?” Kai shows Makoto the screen of her phone a few moments later; it’s displaying the official website of the All-Japan Invitational.

“It’s one of the qualifiers for overseas meets like the Asian Cup and the Olympics, so yes, it’s a big deal,” says Makoto. “Are you really that removed from competitive swimming?”

“No, it’s just you guys have so many big meets, I don’t know which one’s like, the biggest one.” Kai is typing something into a chat. “Sorry, hang on—it’s my brother.”

“Sei-san?”

“No, the youngest one. He’s been racing in Kagoshima this weekend and has sent the family group chat a message saying he just qualified for this and we’re all, ‘wait, need to google this meet’. Tachibana would know, but I think he hasn’t read the message yet.”

Makoto’s eyes turn wide. “Kai, your brother’s in high school, isn’t he?”

“Uh-huh. Third year.” Kai looks up. “Why?”

Makoto can’t help but get excited. “It’s not unheard of, but a high schooler qualifying for the All-Japan Invitational is a pretty big deal! What’s your brother’s specialty?”

“Breaststroke.” Kai checks the message again. “Uh, he says he’s swimming in the four-hundred metre individual medley too.”

“Kai, why have you not mentioned your brother’s this strong a swimmer?” Makoto feels somewhat betrayed.

“What? The day I met you I told you he’s really into swimming.” Kai puts her phone down. “But dude, everyone in my family is a strong swimmer. Zen’s just the fastest.”

Makoto has to laugh at this. The way Kai says it is so matter-of-fact that she probably doesn’t realise her privilege. It’s not uncommon for athletes to have some sort of familial legacy rooted in the sport of their undertaking—Makoto can name a bunch of well-known Olympic gymnasts, wrestlers and weightlifters who have their fathers as coaches—and while it provides an enviable advantage to kids born into such an environment, it also makes those whose talents are spotted like a diamond in the rough a lot more fascinating. Makoto thinks Haru belongs to this latter category, and one thing that attracted Makoto to sports education is the anticipation of unearthing such talent—how rewarding will it be to discover a kid like Haru, so naturally gifted and promising? In this instant he understands how Coach Azuma must’ve felt when he laid eyes on Haru’s swimming for the first time.

“Ah, Haru!” Kai spots Haru first, walking along a corridor on the other side of the grassy courtyard as he studies what is likely Makoto’s location on his phone, and she starts waving. “Over here!”

Haru looks up from the phone screen and starts heading towards them. Makoto waves too, and he reckons he has to take back what he was thinking in the morning about how he didn’t feel any particular elation now that he’s Haru’s significant other, because seeing Haru crossing the square sends a crowd of butterflies into his stomach and _he has no idea why_. It’s not like they’ve achieved any groundbreaking intimacy, or made any eternal promises to one another. Everything is the same, just contextually different.

“This boy is such a sight for sore eyes,” sighs Kai, sounding dreamy. “Would you just look at him?”

“I know, I’m looking,” Makoto says, without thinking. He then realises the meaning behind his words—and Kai’s.

They turn to each other, frantic, knowing; Makoto has a bad feeling about the clownish grin forming on Kai’s face.

Kai starts singing: “Oh, so Makoto _looks_ —”

“You’re looking too!”

“We’re talking strictly aesthetics, Makoto, because _aesthetically-speaking_ —"

“Yes, same! I mean, not strictly, there are other things—”

“Aha!” Kai points an accusatory finger at Makoto, halting their incoherent exchange. “Last time I checked you were all ‘I don’t love him that way’!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Uh, it kinda is? If you’re bold enough to be vocalising your attraction?”

“You taught me attractions can be independent of one another!”

“Is this one independent of something else, then?”

“I don’t know!” Makoto huffs, feeling almost feverish as his face blazes hot. “You’re one to talk—have you been _aesthetically appreciating_ him all this time?!”

“I can’t help it if visually he’s my type, right? The first time you showed me his picture I already told you I think he’s cute.” Kai cackles. “Oh god, Makoto and I share a type!”

“Stop, Kai, just stop—”

Haru comes up to them just as Kai quacks: “I totally ship—” and Makoto pinches her lips to shut her up. Kai flails, grabs Makoto’s sleeve, and yanks his collar wide open.

“What are you two doing?” Haru’s expression is one of disapproval. “People are watching.”

“Kai’s brother is swimming in the All-Japan Invitational!” Makoto says the first thing that comes to mind as he releases Kai’s lips from his fingers.

“Doesn’t explain this,” says Haru, gesturing to Makoto and Kai, hair plastered to their sweaty foreheads, looking like five-year-olds who just had squabbled over whose turn it was to ride the swings.

“Makoto was being petty about me not telling him I have such an outstanding brother,” explains Kai, covering for both of them. “Don’t worry, I was the one who picked the fight.” She slides a look over to Makoto before smirking.

Makoto rolls his eyes. "I don't owe you anything," he whispers.

"We'll see about that," Kai hisses back.

Haru furrows his brow once more at them, then looks at Kai. “Sei-san is swimming in the All-Japan?”

“Oh god, I really need to talk about Zen more.” Kai palms her face. “Not Sei. My kid brother.”

“Oh. The one you and Sei-san taught bad words to.”

“The very one.”

Haru blinks. “He’s still in high school, isn’t he?”

“Yup!”

“Which one?” asks Haru, and Makoto realises he’s never thought to ask this. He’s lumped Tokyo’s numerous sports schools that excel at swimming into a collective and assumed Kai’s brother attends one of them.

“Tokitsu,” says Kai, and Makoto’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“One of our friends was there for a couple of years,” says Haru.

“You’ve met him,” Makoto turns to Kai, “at the bookstore. Sousuke.”

“Ah, the handsome one? With the smouldering eyes?”

“That’s the one. But he transferred out of Tokitsu sometime in third-year and graduated from a school in his hometown.” Makoto wonders if it’s okay to agree that Sousuke is good-looking with Haru standing right there. He chances a glance; Haru’s eyes are looking too deadened, his mouth set in a line too hard, for that to have been a safe comment.

Makoto is letting himself feel a glee he’s never felt before—only because Haru is letting Makoto be privy to what he’s feeling in a way he’s never before. And the way Haru does it—they come in the form of hints, hints that only Makoto can unravel, hints that anyone who isn’t Makoto will be bound to overlook.

Fascinating.

Trying not to let his glee get the better of him, Makoto pulls out his phone for a distraction. “Anyway, let’s look Zen up. Is the character for ‘Zen’ the one for ‘good’?”

“Nope. ‘Fountain’,” answers Kai. “Type ‘izumi’ or ‘sen’ to get the word, I don’t think you’ll find ‘fountain’ under ‘zen’. Sorry, my parents got a bit creative with his name.”

Haru puts down his duffel bag and comes to sit beside Makoto, and the three of them peer at his phone as the page loads results for ‘Tachibana Zen, Tokitsu High’. Makoto picks a link that shares an article of high schoolers to watch at the All-Japan Invitational, just published today.

“Here,” Haru stops Makoto’s scroll by landing a finger on the screen.

“I’ve never googled my brother before.” Kai skims the snippet. “Wow, they’ve got nice things to say, huh?”

“‘Dark horse of the Citizen’s Cup,’” Makoto reads aloud. “‘Isn’t a record holder, so no one had their eyes on him.’” Makoto looks at Haru. “Reminds me of Ikuya.”

“It says here he broke the tournament record for the two-hundred metre breaststroke,” says Haru, pointing to the sentence. “Considering he was competing with older, more experienced swimmers, that’s really impressive.”

“Interesting. He didn’t use to swim the two-hundred,” says Kai, jutting her lips out in thought. “Nor the four-hundred IM, come to think of it. He did shorter distances. I wonder what’s going on.”

“Those events require a strong swimming economy and some very smart planning,” says Makoto. “And working out an individual technique, since it’s breaststroke.”

“He _has_ been working really hard,” says Kai. “After our dad got the business back on track Zen asked if he could live at the dorms, saying it’s the only way he could improve his time. It’s an added expense and we really miss him at home, but if he’s got this much to show, I think he’s doing things right.”

“I’m really looking forward to seeing him swim at the All-Japan,” says Makoto, smiling. “Right, Haru?”

“Yeah.” Haru nods. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Thanks. I gotta tell my parents what you guys said, they’ll be pleased.” Kai shoulders her bag. “Anyway, you two—I’m off to practice. Enjoy your date.” She winks, getting to her feet.

Haru straightens, turning to look at Makoto. “Is this supposed to be a date?”

Makoto laughs weakly, sweat prickling at his hairline as Kai looks curiously on. “I think Kai meant it as a figure of speech, Haru.”

“Hm.” Haru frowns and presses a crooked finger to his chin. “But since we’re having a meal, it does seems to qualify as a date.” Haru gives Makoto a grave look. “I wasn’t planning for our first date to look like this.”

The more Haru says in front of Kai, the more Makoto wants to hide under the bench. He doesn’t have to look at Kai to know she’s grinning; she’s practically radiating with the piss she wants to take out of him.

Kai clears her throat loudly. “ _Bye_ , you lot. Oh and Makoto—try to send Sacchon some love if you can, don’t get too caught up in your own!”

“Go to practice, you,” says Makoto, shooing Kai away. She laughs, scrunching up her eyes and slapping her thighs, then trots off in the direction of the water polo arena.

When Kai disappears round a corner, Makoto turns to Haru, heat building in his cheeks. “Are we okay with telling other people we’re together?”

Haru blinks. “Kai’s not just ‘other people’, is she? You talk to her about some very personal stuff.”

“Yeah, but…” Makoto pauses. “Not everyone’s going to take it well.”

“I’m aware of that. I know who we can trust.”

Makoto pushes his thumb deep into the palm of his other hand, feeling the pressure as he thinks.

“Makoto?” Haru watches him. “Did I upset you?”

“Mm, no.” Makoto shakes his head. “It’s just… I know we tend to have similar views on things we haven’t encountered before and we’re pretty good at compromising on issues we have differing opinions on, but maybe from now on we should… talk about them first? Just so we know for sure we’re on the same page?”

Haru brow creases. “How are we going to talk about something we haven’t encountered before?”

Haru has a point. Still, Makoto feels that this is something on which he’s got to stand his ground. “We have to figure it out. What if I wasn’t cool with Kai knowing we’re together?”

“But I knew you’d be,” says Haru, his voice plain.

“I am, but that’s not the point. I know it’s tricky, but I think it’s better to be preventive about these things. I don’t want to get into a fight with you unnecessarily.”

“We don’t really fight, do we?”

Makoto presses his thumb into the fleshy part of his hand again, finding the action particularly soothing. “Well, to be fair, we did once—when I couldn’t tell you my feelings about something.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” says Haru, sounding a lot gentler.

“It was, partly. It was poor communication.” Makoto meets Haru’s eyes. “Of course, I’m not saying we must sit down and labour over a list of hypotheses and talk about what are the specific actions we’re going to take if something happens.”

“We’re not Rei,” says Haru, speaking what’s at the back of Makoto’s mind.

“Exactly. But I think we need to at least have the awareness that we _should_.”

Haru gives a soft sigh. “Fine,” he says, reluctantly.

Makoto considers why he’s being met with any resistance at all, and prods Haru’s thigh with a finger as a thought occurs to him. “It doesn’t mean you’ll suddenly stop picking up on what I’m thinking just because we’re going to spell things out—you know that isn’t a measure of how well you know me, right?”

Haru doesn’t say anything; Makoto knows he’s hit the nail on the head. It occurs to him that this entire conversation is clueing him in to what he was toiling over the day before: he was worried he wouldn’t know the difference between the him and Haru who were in a relationship, and the him and Haru who _weren’t_ in a relationship. Because if most things stay the same, how is he supposed to recognise anything new about their love?

But this, all of this about pre-empting hurdles—it isn’t a conversation they’ve had to have before. There’s something here that is new and palpable, and while Makoto isn’t a fan of how it makes him feel, he understands this is evidence that things are going to change. Evidence of _how_ things are going to change.

“Makoto.”

“Yeah?”

“You just figured something out, didn’t you?”

Makoto grins. “I did,” he says, and the smile that ghosts Haru’s lips is worth everything.

Haru is in this with him. That’s the most important thing.

“By the way,” says Haru, “what was Kai saying as she left? About sending someone some love?”

“Ah,” Makoto winces, “Saotome-kun’s girlfriend broke up with him this morning. It wasn’t pretty; he was crying all day.” Makoto’s line of sight slides as he recalls Saotome’s sorry, blotchy face. “We showed him a video of penguins and he lost it. It was one of his girlfriend’s—ex-girlfriend’s—favourites.”

“That’s tragic.”

“Yeah.”

“Probably not a good idea to tell him right now that you have a boyfriend.”

“Probably not. I’ll have to tell Kai to be careful—” Makoto stops as the word Haru used registers. He looks up to see Haru avoiding his gaze, covering most of his face with his hand, ears stained pink.

Makoto catches his lips between his teeth, trying not to smile too widely as he tames his own blush.

Evidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!!!
> 
> I decided to write another chapter to improve the flow of the story so I bumped the number of chapters up to 14 but there could be more ^^;;
> 
> Hope you liked this instalment. If you're enjoying the story, please let me know! I'll be responding to all your comments soon!
> 
> I'll be taking a short break - I have some real-life situations to deal with - so I won't be posting this Friday or Sunday, but I also hope to find time to write the missing pieces of Season 1 before I start on Season 2.
> 
> See you around!


	13. Hold 'em Aces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert! Asahi! Ikuya! Hiyori! :DDDD
> 
> I love writing Haru and Makoto in scenes together, but I also love writing them apart. Every character in Free! means a lot to me. I love every one of them and the ties they share. I hope I'm doing them justice in this fic.

Haru’s grandma had this proverb she liked: _A prodigy at ten, a genius at fifteen, and all but ordinary at twenty._

Haru is supposed to turn ordinary today, though in reality he feels pretty far from it.

“No pairs,” says Albert, shaking his head.

Nothing about playing Old Maid with the world-record holder for two freestyle events is ordinary.

Haru’s birthday falls on the eighth day of training camp, and he didn’t plan to say anything about it until after lunch when Toono— _Toono Hiyori_ , of all people—looked up from a folder he was leafing through and asked: “Nanase-kun, isn’t your birthday today?”

They then found out Toono, who planned the combined training along with Asahi, had consolidated the stats of all the training camp participants—including their birthdays—and was trying to commit their profiles to memory. Haru doesn’t know whether to call Toono weird, or simply diligent.

So one thing led to another, mainly under Asahi’s command since he was helming the organising committee, and Haru got thrown an impromptu birthday party during dinner: instead of cake he got an enormous plate of pickled mackerel sushi, spired with twenty candles to match his age. All 39 participants from both universities sang him a birthday song, and Haru was then presented with a large piece of paper that bore a drawing of a T-shirt with the words ‘I only swim Free’ and an empty box etched in the corner of the sheet with the words ‘insert picture of Iwatobi-chan here’. Kiryu and Unita explained this wasn’t his actual present; they’ll get the T-shirt printed when they’re done with camp, and Asahi apologised for not being able to draw Iwatobi-chan. Still, Haru was exceptionally pleased at the gesture, and borrowed a pen to do a quick sketch of his favourite character in the box, earning him some oohs and aahs from people who didn’t know he could draw.

This particular training camp, the first of its kind, is Asahi’s brainchild, and he’s been working on it since spring break. It’s mainly to hone the skills of the first-years of both Hidaka U and Shimogami Gakuin, and the second-years are in-charge; being a student-based effort, none of the organisers were expecting any superstars, but Albert Volandel happens to be the visiting athlete for an upcoming training hosted by Chiba Prefecture’s swimming federation at the facility, and he checked in early to find the Hidaka swim team also using the place, so everyone was hyper-conscious of his presence when they saw him passing through the hallways. Haru was shocked when Albert came over to say hi during dinner, turning all 39 heads—he didn’t think he’d meet Albert again so soon. Albert didn’t seem to mind the stares and sat himself beside Haru, going on about something; Haru had to stop him and ask Ikuya, who was sitting beside him, to translate. Apparently Albert had wandered into the cafeteria when he heard people singing a birthday song, and was even more pleased to see it was to celebrate Haru. He also noticed how much Haru has bulked up since the last time they met, which explained why he was gesturing at Haru’s frame.

Asahi quickly realised Haru and Albert were on friendly terms and grabbed the chance to introduce himself; he then boldly asked Albert if he was interested in hanging out with them later that evening since he had one more plan for Haru’s birthday and was looking for a ‘fifth player’. Haru was surprised Asahi speaks pretty good English; Albert promised he’ll be there.

That’s how they’ve ended up lounging by the poolside during their free time before lights out, playing Old Maid. It’s a roofed pool, situated outdoors with spectator stands and lush greenery surrounding its perimeter; the night is quite balmy so all things considered it’s a rather pleasant evening, though why Asahi thinks this is an apt way to end a birthday, Haru has no idea—he’s not played Old Maid at a birthday party since he was in elementary school—but he’s not having a bad time and he’s with people he actually enjoys the company of, so he doesn’t mind any of it at all.

“First place,” intones Ikuya in modest satisfaction, after he draws a card from Albert that matches one in his hand. He puts the matching cards into the pile in the middle of their circle, and is left with only one card. Asahi shoots Ikuya a dirty look and picks the leftover card out of Ikuya’s fingers; he then groans loudly, making Toono roll his eyes.

“Can’t you keep a straight face, Shiina-kun?” complains Toono, reaching out to draw from Asahi’s hand.

“Wait!” cries Asahi, springing to his feet and jumping a foot away, hiding the cards behind his back. “Let me shuffle first!”

Haru hears Ikuya say something to Albert in English while pointing at Asahi, and it makes Albert chuckle and Toono snort—Haru has a good idea why, because he picked up on the word ‘monkey’. Judging by how offended Asahi looks, Haru assumes he heard it too.

“Did you just call me a monkey?!”

“No, Ikuya said he hopes Albert-san doesn’t think it’s weird we’re friends with monkeys,” Toono translates, far too accurately.

“Yeah,” says Ikuya, “technically I didn’t call you a monkey. I just made it clear you’re one.”

“Ikuya!” roars Asahi, charging at Ikuya, who calmly dodges his attack and pokes Asahi in the ribs.

“Don’t mind them,” Haru turns to Albert, “they think they’re still in junior high.”

Ikuya and Asahi stop fooling around to glare at Haru, and Toono, once again, plays the smooth interpreter. Albert laughs and tells Asahi something while pointing to the cards in his hand; Haru supposes he’s reminding Asahi they’re in the middle of a game.

Grudgingly, Asahi lets Toono draw a card, and curses right after—Haru guesses the joker is still with Asahi—but the chances don’t favour Toono either, and he has no pairs.

It’s Haru’s turn to draw from Toono, and he finds the ace of spades; Haru matches it with his ace of clubs and puts it in the pile. He’s down to two unmatched cards; he holds them out to Albert.

As Albert picks up Haru’s nine of hearts, he asks them something; Haru doesn’t quite catch it, and asks Ikuya what Albert just said.

“He asked if we all grew up together,” says Ikuya, then goes on to explain to Albert who grew up with whom. Haru catches the words ‘junior high’ and ‘team’ with his name and Asahi’s, and ‘America’ and ‘Hiyori’ appear in the same sentence.

“It’s so nice—” begins Albert, and then Haru can’t understand what he's saying anymore, but he has an idea it’s about them and how close they seem. Haru considers this, and wonders where Albert’s sudden wistfulness is coming from. He recalls the first time he met Albert and how there was someone waiting for him outside the cafeteria who seemed more frustrated than relieved to see him; Haru is almost afraid to imagine what kind of solitude lurks in the wings of Albert’s world records.

The game ends for Haru when he gets a match for his single remaining card from Toono’s hand, and there’s a lot of nervous moaning (no guesses from whom) and laughter as the joker somehow manages to travel around the three-man circle. The last two standing end up to be Albert and Asahi, and in a strange twist of fate the joker is left with Albert, who stares at it in such dismay that Haru has to smile.

“I fucking beat _Odin_ ,” says Asahi, his voice marked with disbelief as he drops his last pair of cards on top of the discard pile.

“At _Old Maid_ ,” reminds Ikuya.

“Don’t take it so seriously.” Toono pats Asahi’s shoulder.

“I don’t care! A win’s a win!” Asahi scrambles to his feet and canters towards the pool.

“Don’t fall, _saru_ -Asahi,” calls Ikuya, as Asahi climbs onto a diving block, laughing as his feet do a little jig.

Albert nudges Haru’s elbow. “Is ‘saru’ Japanese for ‘monkey’?” he asks, and Haru nods, impressed. This guy really catches on fast.

“Nanase-kun, this is how you’re ending your birthday,” says Toono, pointing. “With a dancing monkey.”

“Oi, Toono! I can hear you!”

Haru is about to say he’s ending his birthday with a call to Makoto, but it feels like something too personal to tell Toono. Haru isn’t sure where his friendship with Toono stands just yet, mainly because Toono puts a fair bit of purposeful distance between himself and people. Haru supposes it’s getting better, if they’re playing games by the pool, but Toono still seems kind of guarded. He doesn’t seem wary or contrary anymore, however, not like the first time they met.

Albert is asking Toono a question, and Haru tries to make out what’s going on. Now Toono seems to be explaining something, using a lot of their names and emphasising the words ‘-kun’ and ‘-san’; it takes a while, but Haru thinks Toono might be telling Albert how Japanese tend to employ the way they address someone else as a familiarity marker.

“What’s Toono saying?” asks Asahi, coming back to the group.

“Albert-san asked why we call each other by names different from the ones we introduced ourselves with,” says Ikuya, filling him in. “Hiyori’s telling him why.”

“Ah, he actually noticed,” says Asahi.

“He’s a very observant person. Intelligent, too,” says Haru, remembering their first encounter, when Albert mastered the use of chopsticks in barely a minute. 

Ikuya translates what Haru and Asahi just said for Albert, and Albert grins and says: “It’s nothing.” He pauses, then taps a finger on his breastbone. “Call me ‘Al’.”

“Al,” Haru tries the name out on his tongue, and swallowing the vowel he’s wont to add at the end is a little harder than expected, but he manages it, and Al beams at him. Asahi, meanwhile, is struggling, saying how this is the one sound he can’t perfect; Ikuya gives him a three-second lesson, telling him to touch the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth for the L-sound, instead of trying to stick it out. The look that comes upon Asahi’s face when he says Al’s name perfectly is one of pure amazement, and it prompts all of them to laugh and applaud.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised if you’re the genius you’re always claiming to be,” Ikuya teases Asahi in his usual offish way.

“I’m not surprised, who said I was surprised?” Asahi sports a haughty look.

“Shiina-kun is truly a genius among his species.” Toono takes a low bow, obsequious and affected.

Asahi goes to the pile of cards and throws one at Toono’s head. “Stop calling me a monkey.”

Haru raises a hand. “Technically, Toono didn’t call you a monkey.” It takes a moment for Asahi to compute; indeed, Toono had refrained from specifying _which_ species Asahi is a genius of.

“Argh!” Asahi leaps back, looking betrayed as he stabs a finger in Haru’s direction. “Haru! Whose side are you on?!”

Al gets to his feet, and they all turn to look at him as he gestures to Ikuya. “Ikuya,” he goes, “Al,” indicating himself, then continues moving his hand around the circle, chanting their names in a rhythm, “Haruka, Hiyori, and—” He stops at Asahi, sounding as imploring as a music teacher leading a singalong.

“Monkey,” Toono and Ikuya chorus in English, not missing a beat, and Haru chokes on a laugh.

“Oi!” squawks Asahi. “You guys are a bad influence on Al!”

“I’m sorry, Asahi.” Al chortles, then holds his arms out to Asahi for a hug. Without a moment’s hesitation Asahi steps into the embrace, resting the side of his head against Al’s shoulder and letting him pet his hair.

“Oh my god, he’s Al’s _pet monkey_ ,” gasps Ikuya, before he loses it and pitches his face into Toono’s sleeve, his giggles surprising even Toono; Haru will never understand Ikuya’s odd sense of humour when it comes to Asahi—Asahi’s probably the only one who can make Ikuya laugh like that. 

“Sure, don’t take a picture of me, you guys; I’m only hugging Albert Volandel,” says Asahi, maintaining his pose.

“No, he’s hugging you,” Haru points out, to which Asahi responds by snaking his arms around Al’s waist, telling him ‘Excuse me’ in English, before squeezing him around the sides, coaxing a giggle out of Ikuya again as Al lets out a slight ‘oof’. Toono then drawls something Haru doesn’t catch—it sounds like a question—and Al brightens before releasing Asahi, then beckons to the rest of them to crowd around him. He gets his phone out from his pocket, swipes a notification away, and opens the camera app. It’s quite dark by the poolside since none of the floodlights are on and the illumination offered by the lights that will be left on for the rest of the night is minimal—most of it is hitting the water anyway—so after he checks how the group is framed in the screen Al flips the phone to the side with the flash. 

“Smile, boys,” he croons, and takes the shot.

The way the mind forgets and remembers is frightfully convenient—that’s the thought that’s going through Haru’s mind as Al shows them the picture, because here they are, five dudes by a pool celebrating a birthday, as if one of them isn’t a world-record holder who just lost a game of Old Maid, as if the rest of them aren’t aching to claim his title someday (the world-record, not the loser of Old Maid). They’re friends and rivals at the same time, and Haru has enough of these relationships in his life for them to be normal, but the idea in and of itself isn’t always something Haru can really wrap his mind around when he looks at it objectively. It makes Haru think about Makoto (almost every thought he has these days can be linked to Makoto; Haru doesn’t think his heart can take any more of this thrill, but it doesn’t seem to be ebbing away anytime soon), who has never been his rival, even though he very well could. Makoto could have been a part of this, this fight for status and speed and titles and trophies, but he chose not to.

There’s one thing that has always set Makoto apart from everyone Haru knows in competitive swimming: even when Makoto is racing to win, he never tries to upstage anyone else. He never has it in his mind to be better than them, to oust them off their pedestals. When Makoto swims, he does it for himself, or for his team. Haru has never seen Makoto under-perform because of some kind of emotional roadblock; his swimming only encapsulates his skill and potential in their rawest forms—that kind of consistency is admirable, and is something Haru lacks.

“Haruka,” calls Al, bringing Haru back to their conversation. He’s pretty sure Al is asking him if he’s using an iPhone; Haru says no, and pulls out his Android.

“That’s okay, Al can AirDrop the file to me and I’ll send it to you,” says Toono. He then cants his head, realising something. “I don’t have your contact, Nanase-kun.”

“Make a group chat,” advises Asahi, “and I’ll add Haru in.”

“Al doesn’t have Line?” asks Haru.

“Nope,” says Toono. “It’s not that popular in Sweden.”

“Al.” Asahi shows Al the Line icon on his screen. “Download this.”

“Maybe later,” says Al. “There’s no Wi-Fi here.”

“Ah,” Asahi looks perplexed, “he won’t be able to add us if we’re not around to show him our QR code. Maybe we should have him take down our IDs?”

“We’ll still be here tomorrow and the day after,” says Haru. “Plenty of time to get that done.”

“Oh, right!” exclaims Asahi; Ikuya is already telling Albert something about ‘tomorrow’. Al’s lips curve in a smile as he nods and says something that sounds positive and anticipatory.

“It’s almost lights-out; my debrief with the first-years is in ten minutes,” says Toono. “Shiina-kun, you? Meeting your first-years?”

“Nope, we take turns. Suzuki and Inada are doing it tonight,” says Asahi, bending down to gather the cards, which belong to him. “I’ve got to meet Okuda-sensei in half an hour, though. I’ll probably be showering in the meantime. How about you, Haru?”

“I want to use the baths too, but I need to make a phone call first.”

“Al?” Asahi switches to English. “Are you going to your room now?”

Al reaches for his calf, snapping the leg of his swimsuit he’s wearing under his shorts against his skin, and says something that makes Haru's other companions laugh; this is one of the rare moments Haru feels regret for not paying more attention during English classes.

“‘It’s still two-thirty in Sweden and I’m wearing my legskin’ really isn’t the best attitude to take towards jet-lag,” comes Toono to Haru’s rescue, and he makes it sound like he’s merely commenting on what Al said instead of making a casual interpretation.

Haru knows what Toono’s doing. He’s saving Haru some face. Haru never thought he’d ever think this, but—he could get quite fond of Toono. 

“So… I guess we’d better be making a move,” says Toono, nodding at Ikuya, who’s already shouldering his hip pack. “Good night.” Toono switches to English. “Nice meeting you, Al.”

“Same here,” says Al, before picking up the plastic case that was housing the cards; he passes it to Asahi, who says his thanks with a face-breaking grin. He’s a fanboy if there ever was one, Haru thinks.

“Ah—happy birthday, Haru. It wasn’t much, but I hope you had a good one,” says Ikuya, smiling.

“Thanks,” says Haru as he waves. “I did.”

Ikuya makes for the exit, Toono already ahead of him, and for a moment Haru thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him in the shadows but there’s no mistake about it, Ikuya has caught up to Toono and slipped his hand into his; it’s a smooth, practised gesture, and Toono responds with a look of nonchalant worship before continuing his way out of the exit. Ikuya shoots the pool one last glance over his shoulder; he sees Haru staring after them and manages a quick wave with his free hand before disappearing out of sight.

Very slowly, Haru pivots on a foot and turns to face his two other friends, trying to come to terms with the sudden revelation. Al saw it too, based on his rounded lips and raised eyebrows, but Asahi is kneeling on the floor, busy shoving his hands into his pockets, muttering ‘where’s that card’.

“They’re a couple?” is Al’s question.

Haru shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says, making Asahi look up.

“Hm?” Asahi sees Al pointing to the door.

“Boyfriends?” Al repeats his question. “Hiyori and Ikuya? They were holding hands.”

“Ah, yes.” Asahi nods, face lighting up as he locates the card he’s looking for. “Before this training Hiyori and Ikuya already said to me.” Asahi pauses, doubting his choice of words. “‘Said to me’? ‘Told me’?”

“Told you?” suggests Al.

“Told me!” says Asahi, head bobbing in a definitive nod.

“Is it okay, you telling me?” asks Al.

“No problem,” says Asahi assuringly, before scrunching up his features, likely searching for the right English. “Ikuya and Hiyori want to tell more friends,” says Asahi, haltingly, “but—they are shy. Too shy. So Ikuya said: ‘Asahi, you can tell people, when there’s a chance.’”

Asahi’s English is spoken slow enough and clear enough for Haru to understand perfectly. Al’s next sentence, however, he can’t quite catch. Something to do with a ‘good team’. Asahi seems to know what Al is saying, though.

“Too good!” answers Asahi, obviously agitated. “In meetings to prepare this training, when I went to Ikuya’s and Hiyori’s school, Ikuya always says this: ‘Baka-Asahi. That’s impossible.'” Asahi performs a commendable imitation of Ikuya’s voice and mannerisms. “Then, Hiyori _always_ follow what he says. For example, ‘No, Ikuya. Asahi is not _baka_ , maybe he’s just alien.’” Asahi sounds exactly like Hiyori, except in English; Haru is impressed at the level of mimicry Asahi is displaying tonight. “And this morning! Ikuya told me: ‘Asahi, if you swim faster, maybe you can become human.’ Then, Hiyori said: ‘I will pray for you at the shrine. Give the god money, too.’” Asahi stops acting, and rolls his eyes. “All the time. They’re _worst monkeys_.”

“‘Worst monkeys’…” Al laughs so hard he has to use the front of his T-shirt to wipe away tears. Haru is only able to laugh because he’s privy to the episodes Asahi has described, which helps him understand most of the English. Asahi, meanwhile, looks fairly offended that he’s being laughed at instead of agreed with.

“Are you surprised, Haru?” asks Asahi, after Al excuses himself to go warm up. “I was wondering how to tell you.”

“Just a little,” admits Haru. “But not so much about them being together—more because I wasn’t expecting to find out this way.”

“What, from me?”

“No, by seeing them behave so openly. Ikuya just went up and took Toono’s hand like he does it in front of people all the time.”

“Ah. He probably does, though.” Asahi grins. “Ballsy bastard.”

Haru stares at Asahi for a beat. “You know, you sound a lot more intelligent in English.”

“Oi!”

Haru can only offer Asahi a plain look. It’s the truth.

“Anyway,” says Asahi, the scowl on his face fading, “I’m going back to the room. You coming?”

Haru thinks about the room’s five other occupants and the meagre privacy they’ll offer his phone call. “I’ll be there in a bit,” says Haru, raising his phone to remind Asahi he did say he has to make a call first.

Asahi nods. “Right. See ya later.” He waves to Al, telling him he’ll see him tomorrow.

It’s just Al and Haru here now, and Haru decides to call Makoto only after Al gets into the pool. He walks up to Al, who’s on his back, hugging a knee to his chest.

“Hey, Haruka,” says Al, and Haru hears ‘help me’ and ‘stretch’, ending in a rising tone. He nods. Al gets into a sitting position and straightens his legs; he then reaches for his toes and Haru takes the cue to push against his shoulder blades. When Al says his thanks, Haru carefully shifts his weight back, letting Al come up slowly.

Al is jabbing a thumb at the pool now, asking Haru if he’s swimming too, or something like that. Haru shakes his head. “There’s someone I need to call,” says Haru, tapping his phone.

“A phone call?” Al interprets, and Haru nods. “Girlfriend?” Al grins.

Haru hesitates for a brief second. “Boyfriend,” he corrects, the unfamiliarity of the language helping to stanch his embarrassment.

“Ooooh.” Al’s eyes go bright, and he looks like a paparazzo reporter who’s acquired some scoop.

“Asahi, Ikuya and Toono don’t know yet. Don’t tell them.” Haru puts a finger to his lips to clue Al in.

Al’s grin grows wider as he catches on. “Ah, a secret boyfriend?”

Haru doesn’t think ‘secret boyfriend’ is the right expression, but if that’s how Al wants to roll with it, Haru doesn’t have the vocabulary to stop him. “Not really a secret boyfriend, but right now it’s a secret.”

He had a talk about this with Makoto, the day Haru left for training camp. Since Haru would be in close quarters with some of their oldest friends, there’s bound to be opportunities to tell them, but as Haru expected, Makoto preferred that he be around when they find out. Growing up this close, their societies overlap so much that only a handful of people are friends with merely one of them, so Haru foresees most of their mutual friends are going to remain in the dark until Makoto, whom Haru swears has the busier schedule, deigns to make an appearance at one of their social gatherings.

“I understand,” says Al importantly, his face solemn as he puts a hand on his chest. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” Haru smiles. For all his dominance in the water and his reputation of being the Odin of the competitive swimming world, Al is actually more of a whimsical fluff-ball type once you get to know him.

Al is asking him something, but Haru doesn’t understand it completely. Al repeats his question, saying it slower, drawing his palms away from each other to indicate a passage of time, and Haru guesses he’s asking how long he and Makoto have been together.

It’s a good question. Haru isn’t sure whether to say ‘20 years’ or ‘12 days’, not when both are accurate.

“Twenty years,” is the answer Haru goes with, mainly because he’s suddenly forgotten how to say ‘12’ in English. Al’s jaw drops, and Haru asks him to wait before scrolling through his phone. His parents sent him a video collage this morning, wishing him happy birthday and that they will always be rooting for him—there’s a picture of him and Makoto in there, and he knows if he shows it to Al, it’ll give him an idea of what Haru means by ‘20 years’.

Ever since he graduated from junior high Haru’s been living on his own, and in his first year of high school some terribly concerned parents had some very public opinions about it, but it’s not like Haru’s parents abandoned him or anything. It made a lot of sense for Haru, at the time and especially now, seeing how his parents, who are still embarrassingly fond of each other, had fallen in love; chosen to be each other’s partners for the rest of their lives; and yet were forced to live apart just because they thought Iwatobi was a better environment for Haru to grow up in, compared to where his dad was stationed in Hokkaido. Haru thinks it was pretty sacrificial of them to make that decision, so when they sat him down and asked how comfortable he was with living alone when he started high school, Haru said he was perfectly fine with the idea. On hindsight, his ease with the arrangement might also have stemmed from how Makoto was just next door.

“Here,” says Haru, finally locating the picture embedded in the video. It’s one of both his and Makoto’s families, likely right after they met for the first time because it was springtime and Makoto still needed to be carried by his mum.

“Sakura,” says Al, pointing to the screen, recognising the tree in the background, along with its flowers. “Pretty.”

Haru nods. He points to Makoto, looking grumpy and teary in his mother’s arms; maybe he’d wanted to play with Haru instead of being in a picture. “Boyfriend.”

“ _Ah_ ,” says Al, bobbing his head, getting it. “Cute. This one’s you, right?” He points to Haru, still a toddler, hugging his dad’s thigh. 

“Yes. One year, here.”

“You’re one year old in the picture?” says Al, smiling.

“Yes. Maybe.” Haru pauses, suddenly worried that Al might get the wrong idea about Japan’s laws on juvenile obscenity if he assumes Haru and Makoto got involved as children. “Friend, here,” he says, drawing a circle around the two kids in the picture with his finger, before swiping to his calendar widget and pointing to the Saturday he told Makoto he liked him. “Boyfriend, here.”

It takes a moment for Al to understand and then he exclaims something, laughs about something—Haru has no idea what he’s saying—then Al makes a go-ahead gesture with his hand while indicating Haru’s phone, and it clicks.

“It’s fine, I’ll call him after you start training,” says Haru, moving his pointer from Al to the pool.

“Okay.” Al grins. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” he asks, as he starts pulling off his T-shirt.

“Makoto,” says Haru, and it catches him by surprise how the sound of a name can singe his cheeks when it never did so before. Al is folding up his shirt against his abs, so he doesn’t notice Haru pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, trying to compose himself. To divert his embarrassment, Haru asks: “And you?”

“Hm?” Al looks up at Haru as he starts shucking off his shorts, recognising that Haru had asked a question despite it being in Japanese. “Ah, a boyfriend?”

Haru nods. Al chuckles and shakes his head.

“Girlfriend?” tries Haru, allowing himself to smile.

Al shakes his head again, laughing at how his question has come back to him. He’s down to his legskin now, and starts clamping his arm against his chest with a bent elbow, stretching out his deltoids. “I have nobody,” he says, gloom flitting across his smile. 

Haru stills. Did he just hit a raw nerve?

“But I have the water.” Al nods toward the pool, slowing down his speech deliberately for Haru’s sake. “In the water, I have everybody.”

The words flood Haru’s heart with a warmth so rich and deep; it’s a wonderful sentiment, one that Haru shares on an almost spiritual level. Al isn’t just talking about how the water makes him feel; he’s talking about the one moment in a race when rivalry melts, when victory is at its most inconsequential, when their minds feed on company in order to forget the solitude of pressing towards that certain goal: everyone is in there for a reason, and they swim because the others are swimming too. This is also why Haru enjoys swimming team relays—the feeling is multiplied and stretched out, and the journey towards the goal, instead of something travelled by one, is a burden shared.

Haru sighs and touches Al’s arm briefly. “I understand,” says Haru, nodding.

Al just gives Haru a big grin, says something too fast for Haru to grasp, then claps Haru on the shoulder before ambling to the pool.

Now alone, Haru takes a moment to mull over this business of turning twenty. Millions of people around the world turned twenty today; he’s merely a speck in that statistic. But he doesn’t _feel_ insignificant, or ordinary—not when he feels so content, so loved, so different from a year before. It’s funny when he thinks about it—he hasn’t spent many birthdays away from Makoto, and honestly he’d thought he’d be a little more miserable today given that Makoto is more his person now than ever before, but Haru only feels joy. It’s a faith, perhaps, that Makoto definitely has Haru on his mind, which gives him the latitude to experience all the other kinds of love that his family and friends have so kindly showered upon him today.

Not everyone gets to count their blessings when they’re twenty, Haru realises. Some twenty-year-olds might even have lost their lives today. There’s still pain and suffering in this world, realms of sorrow Haru can’t even begin to imagine. It’s a dark thought, but a necessary reminder. Haru needs to cling on to the cards of privilege that life has dealt him so, maybe one day, he can do something properly good with them. He hasn’t really discovered what that something is, but he thinks he might be getting closer. 

It’s almost 10; Haru goes to sit on the edge of the pool before texting Makoto to ask if he’s ready to chat, and Makoto responds with a call.

“Haru,” says Makoto happily. “Did you have a good birthday?”

Hearing Makoto’s voice at the end of the day takes Haru back to their shared walks after school; a measured pace along torpid shores; parallel shadows on mottled stone pavements, under a sky lovingly bruised by the setting sun. Haru closes his eyes and basks in the feeling.

“Haru? Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Everything okay?”

“Mm.” Haru racks up the courage to say something hair-raisingly mawkish. “Just wish you were here.”

“Oh.” A laugh—has it always sounded this tender?

Haru blushes, then changes the subject. “They gave me pickled mackerel sushi. With candles.”

“Instead of cake?”

“Yeah. Then we played Old Maid with Albert Volandel.”

“You _what?_ ”

“Yeah. And Asahi speaks English fairly well.”

“He does?!”

“Yup. Oh, and Toono and Ikuya are together.”

“ _They are?!_ ”

“And now Albert’s our friend. We call him ‘Al’. I'm watching him swim right now.”

“Haru, wait—I’m _not_ keeping up with this conversation! Start from the top.”

Haru laughs at Makoto’s fluster, then begins to fill him in.

Haru is loved. Today, and every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I wouldn't able to post this week but I think I can manage one chapter. Taking a break until March, sorry!
> 
> I'll get to comment replies soon! I've been very encouraged by all your comments and always re-read them for motivation :D


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